Awake, Lady
by Chime
Summary: It's been a long time since Hermione and Ron have talked - but not out of choice. Now she has to cope with what happened during her absence.
1. Ron Waited

**Awake, Lady  
Chapter One - Ron Waited**

  
  
I own nothing but my obsession. I'm poor. Enjoy, and please read and review. This will have CHAPTERS - what a change, for me.  
Updated 03-13-02 - thank you very much Indus, for pointing out my typos. I always forget to have someone proofread them first...  
  
  
  
  
Hermione jerked awake with a start, screaming. She threw one arm across her face, and thrust the other forward, brandishing her wand.   
  
What she saw made her stop screaming almost immediately.   
  
Though her vision was, for some reason, blurry, she could see that it was a blue wall. That is, what wall she could see was blue. In fact, most of the wall was covered up by a large, imbedded mahogany bookcase, filled with many volumes and great tomes. This sight was shortly interrupted as she fell back to the bed, too weak to hold herself up.   
  
Where the hell was she? What happened? She must have been stunned - that must have been it. But... why would a Death Eater stun her? They should have killed her... killed her. Wait. Was she in heaven? If this was it, then it was suitable, though not quite what she had imagined.   
  
Her vision had begun to clear, and she managed to turn her head. A large bay window faced towards a small street, once side open and stirring the ivory curtains around it. The large room was filled with light, and another bookcase had been built into the wall surrounding the window. It too was packed with books - books Hermione recognized, and some she didn't. This was her collection, she thought - although many books had been added. She turned her head again, wincing at how much effort it took. Against the opposite wall was a beautiful vanity that matched the bookcases, and she saw next to the bed a nightstand in the same style. There was a glass of water, two books (one large, one small) and a small lamp on this nightstand. Hermione uttered a sigh-like giggle as she realized the larger book was "Hogwarts: A History"   
  
The bed she was lying in was large, and she was covered in a beautiful quilt that appeared to be hand stitched. So beautiful, she thought to herself, so like one she had admired as Mrs. Weasley stitch a few days ago.   
  
Hermione mentally shook herself and dropped her eyes closed. It was easier to think without exerting physical effort. First thing first, she needed-   
  
The door creaked open and the face of a beautiful young woman with red hair poked through. She pushed the door all the way open and sighed, then spoke.   
  
"I thought I heard you... even though I know it's impossible. Wishful thinking maybe." She approached the bed and smoothed the covers, then sat in a small wooded chair by the bed and clasped Hermione's hand.   
  
Yanked from her thoughts by the contact, Hermione, with much effort, opened her eyes again. _Ginny!_ She must be at the Weasley house. At least one mystery was solved, now-   
  
Ginny shrieked. She then bolted from the room. Hermione heard her run downstairs. There was a moment of silence, then a loud "whoosh", and Ginny yelled "She's awake, apparate home, NOW!" Hermione then heard her run back up the stairs. She breathlessly re-entered the room, and sat on the bed, taking hold of Hermione's hand.   
  
_Quite a lot of fuss, it's just me..._ Hermione thought to herself. _I couldn't have been stunned for that long. Why didn't they Ennevreate me? Maybe they thought I needed sleep... silly, really._   
  
Ginny had begun to cry, and was stroking Hermione's hand. "You're **back**, oh, Ron knew it would happen, he did, we couldn't believe him, oh, but you're back!"   
  
Hermione tried to furrow her brow, but the effort exhausted her. What was Ginny talking about?   
  
Suddenly, Ginny stopped stroking her hand, and looked into Hermione's face, a concerned expression covering her pretty features.   
  
"You're not talking. Can you?" She was answered by silence, and frowned at this. "Of course... we didn't know it would work. Okay, that's fine, it's okay... Hermione, Ron will be here in a minute, and so will Harry. Oh! Harry! I still have to call him... I'll be right back, don't worry, ok?" With this, Ginny patted Hermione's hand and flew from the room and down the stairs again.   
  
Hermione's body may not have been top notch at the moment, but her brain was performing rather well. Why in the world did Ginny look so different? Had she put on more makeup today? No, maybe she got her hair cut... yes, maybe that was it? No... that didn't-   
  
There was a small "pop" on the other side of the room, and Hermione forced her head in that direction.   
  
A tall man was standing by the window, backlit by the sun from outside. Iit was later in the afternoon, and the sun was shining too brightly for her to see defining features. Hermione saw him drop his arms to his side, as he sharply sucked in his breath. Without warning, he rushed towards the bed and picked her up in his arms, holding her close.   
  
He had taken this action so quickly that Hermione still hadn't been able to see him clearly - but now there was no doubt as to who it was. Hermione's eyes were still open, and though she could make no move to return the hug, she wished with all her heart she could. He was holding her neck as one would a baby, and she could see the bright red hair of the man who had buried his face in her shoulder. It was Ron; there could be no mistake.   
  
Hermione became concerned as she felt hot tears begin to collect on her shirt, on her neck, in her hair. Ron was kissing the crown of her head over and over, holding her close to him. He had begun to sob. This, more then anything, scared Hermione - she had never heard or seen Ron cry. She had just accepted the fact, eventually, that he just didn't, but now he was making no attempt to stave off the tears.   
  
Hermione heard two pairs of feet run up the stairs, and then heard a bass voice whoop in happiness behind her. Ron pulled his face away from her hair, and looked up, smiling. The tears were still streaming down his face, but he had begun to laugh.   
  
"I **told** you Harry! I told you she'd come back, there'd be no way she'd leave us! She came back, mate!"   
  
Ginny was biting her lip, and quickly moved forward, touching Ron's hands.   
  
"Ron, I don't think she can talk or move very well yet... she's just woken. Be careful..."   
  
Ron glared at his sister, but it dissolved in moments. "Fine, fine... I'm just so happy... Here, Harry, Harry..."   
  
_Harry's here? How long have I been out?_ Hermione suddenly opened her eyes wider. Third year... had she been petrified again? Oh god, how long had she been gone? Two months? Four? Six?   
  
She felt herself being turned in Ron's arms, and before long she was facing Harry, her head cradled in the nook of Ron's arm. She felt warm and safe, which was substantially different from how she had been feeling just two minutes ago.   
  
Harry grinned widely, and sat on the bed, embracing her with Ron. Hermione began to panic. She hadn't had time to study Ron before he had began to hold her, but Harry she had gotten a better look at. He was much more muscular then the last time she had seen him, and there was another scar on his neck, that disappeared into his robes. She made a squeak of protest at so much attention, and Harry and Ron pulled away from her a bit.   
  
Ron looked on her, concerned. "Do you want me to sit you up?" Hermione nodded weakly. At least moving was getting easier, that was something. After Ron had propped her up on three pillows, she attempted to speak. Nothing came out but a dry whispy sound, and Ginny pulled the glass of water from the nightstand. There was a straw in it, and she put it up to Hermione's mouth. Hermione sucked weakly at the straw, and gradually drank half of the glass. Ron and Harry meanwhile, sat anticipating anything she would do. When Hermione had finished drinking, her head dropped back and her eyes closed.   
  
Ron was devastated when the first words out of her mouth were the only ones he didn't think he could cope with answering.   
  
Hermione slowly opened her eyes again and pulled her head up. "How long?" Her voice sounded thin and papery, but Ron heard a note of the old command in it.   
  
Ron gulped and looked to Harry. Harry, however, had turned to Ginny, who was simply staring at Ron. He looked at Hermione again and pulled her hand into his.   
  
"Later, 'Mione, huh? Are you hungry?"   
  
"How long..." she paused, sucking in a breath, "you... prat?"   
  
Ron couldn't help himself. He began to laugh softly to himself, and Harry and Ginny began to snicker on Hermione's other side. Even Hermione managed a tiny smile, but then her face hardened with determination.   
  
"Tell me" she said.   
  
Ron nodded. It wouldn't be kind to her to postpone it, anyway. He brushed her face with his hand and solemnly addressed her.   
  
"Seven years, a month, and two days."   
  
Hermione's head fell forward. Her effort to keep it held up had failed when she had heard him, and she softly began to shake her head.   
  
"Seven years... seven years..."   
  
Ron grimaced and lifted her head. "It's ok, Hermione. It's ok. We're here... and the worst is over. And we're together again."   
  
Hermione nodded weakly and put her head back, closing her eyes again. She sighed, then softly said "There's a lot to read then. Good."   
  
A smile tugged the edges of Ron's lips. He began to softly laugh, and it soon matured into full out guffaws. Tears began to stream down his face again, and he curled up on the bed, holding his stomach. Harry and Ginny were smiling at each other, and Hermione looked at Ron with a self-satisfied smile on her face. 

  
  
  
  
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It had been a long first day of coping. Ginny had insisted that Hermione eat some soup, and Ron had insisted on sitting on the bed watching her the entire time. Even when Hermione had asked Ginny if she could get up, or at least shower, Ron had been reluctant to leave the room. He had protested loudly before Harry had come upstairs to get him.   
  
"It's not like it matters! I've dressed her and bathed her just as much as you, Gin! I've sat by her bed for seven goddamn years, it's nothing I haven't seen!"   
  
Hermione had blushed scarlet at this. Ron had... he'd seen her naked? She supposed it didn't really count, did it, she was in a coma for god's sake, right?   
  
"It's not the same at all, Ron, and you know it! Now wait outside, or I'll knock you out!" Ginny was a head shorter then Ron, but she didn't seem daunted at this, and Ron had finally acquiesced.   
  
When Ginny had shut the door, Hermione had questioned her quickly. Why had Ron seen her naked? What was he talking about?   
  
Ginny had winced and begun to pull back the covers and help Hermione to the adjoining bathroom. Since Hermione could still barely walk Ginny did most of the work, and it was a while before they could talk. When Hermione was settled in the tub, Ginny sighed and began.   
  
"Hermione, he didn't mean anything bad by it. Yes - he has seen you naked. So've I before, and Harry. We've all taken care of you the past seven years... him most of all. When it happened - and you have to ask Ron, because I don't think I can explain it right - he was... he was torn apart. He couldn't deal with it, at first. He refused to go in and see you when the mandrake draught didn't work. He let out his aggression on everything inanimate. We have the holes in the walls at The Burrow to prove it."   
  
Hermione stopped her. "The Burrow? We're not at the Burrow?"   
  
Ginny had shaken her head and continued to wash Hermione's long hair. "No... you were only at The Burrow for about two and a half years - you were in the twin's room most of that time. We're in Hogsmeade, this is Ron's house, technically, but I live her. Harry lives in a flat a couple of miles away. Anyway - when the mandrake draught didn't work, he got angry. Then, about a year after it happened, he just... he just stopped being mad. One night I found him sleeping on the bed with his arms around you. He's slept like that on and off for the last five years. Every time the mediwizards propose something new, he lies by whenever he can... proposed, lay.. God, I'm glad you're back."   
  
Ginny's face paled. "Hermione, I have to tell you something."   
  
Hermione nodded. It might be better to get all of the shocks at once.   
  
Ginny's voice was a whisper. "I... I gave up on you, Hermione. So did dad, so did most everyone else. I'm sorry." Hermione nodded, and Ginny continued. "Everyone but Harry and Ron... Ron especially. Once we figured out you might never wake up... he wanted to make sure that if you did, you'd be comfortable. The day after I found him on the bed holding you, and he applied to be an auror. After what happened, how could they not take him?"   
  
Hermione started to stop her again, but Ginny got to it before she could. "And he'll tell you what happened, Hermione. It's not my place. A lot has happened while you were away, a little bad but so much good. So... they made him an auror. It only took him six months - it takes two years for most people. He worked for a year - he was gone so often, dealing with so many different things. I think he wanted to think about anything but you... but when he came home, he always went straight to you. After about a year of working, he pulled me aside one day, and asked me if I'd come live with you two, and help take care of you. I asked him where, and he said that he was having a house built... he said that when you woke up, he wanted you to be comfortable, surrounded by all of your things. So we've been here since then, the two of us. The house is huge, Hermione... Ron only spends his money on food and the house, and your treatments from the mediwizards. I don't think he's bought new clothes since he was twenty! There are six bedrooms, and Ron is about to add two more. Now that you're awake, Hermione... you know, it's your house too."   
  
Hermione shook her head and asked Ginny how it was her house.   
  
She smiled broadly. "Oh, Ron's going to kill me. He's always loved you... so much. He was going to ask you to marry him, Hermione. He was planning on doing it as soon as Voldemort was gone. And when you were gone before Voldemort... well, Ron got sad. He started building the house, and said that this was the house he would have built for you when you were married. He wears the engagement ring he was going to give you on a chain."   
  
Hermione rested her head against the cool tile tub. Ron had made this house for her. She had always known how he felt about her, since the fourth year ball, but she had never known it had run this deep. He knew how she felt too - she had told him so much in their sixth year, but they had never pursued any relationship in the time of crisis. Instead, they had made a silent pact not to want anyone else - and that was the way it had been. She smiled broadly, staring, astonished, at Ginny. 

  
  
  
  
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	2. Returning to the World

**Awake, Lady  
Chapter Two – Returning to the World**  
  
  


Again, I own nothing. If you see errors or plot holes, I will gladly (very gladly!) correct them, and you will be credited. Please read and review, I really appreciate it. Also, and most of all, please enjoy! Oh, also, Xandie is pronounced "Zandy".  
  
  
  
Hermione had wanted to stay up the rest of the day and talk with Ron and Harry about what had happened to her – she still didn't really know. All she **did** know was that her most recent memory was of being turned on by a Death Eater. When she tried to question Ron, however, he just shook his head and smiled at her.   
  
"I know you don't want to," he said, "but you need to get back to bed." He held up his hands as she began to protest. "Hey, hey… I know you've been in bed for a long time, but the mediwizards will need to come tonight, so you need to have some rest before they show up. You're a medical and magical mystery, 'Mione. They're going to want to see you, and talk to you."   
  
This reminded her of something she had been wanting to ask – well, something more she wanted to ask, but this was most likely something he would tell her now.   
  
"Ron, maybe it doesn't happen to wizards, but my legs-" Ron smiled.   
  
"You're wondering why you can use them at all, even if just a little bit?" She nodded.   
  
"Your treatments. A mediwizard has come to visit you every day after the first three months of the coma, and has treated your muscles so they wouldn't atrophy. Now-" he said before she could begin a new line of questioning. "Drink this, and sleep for a bit. I promise with all my heart that tomorrow, you can ask us whatever you want, and we'll tell you everything."   
  
Hermione looked at him and nodded. It wouldn't do her any good to argue, she knew – Ron seemed resolute. He smiled and brought the cup to her lips. She drank deeply, and for the first time in over seven years, she dreamt. 

  
  
  
  
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When she awoke the next morning, Ron was lying next to her on the bed. He was fully clothed, and his mouth hung slightly open, one hand clasping hers. Her heart skipped a beat – he was so close. If she just bent her head, ever so slightly, she could push her lips against his… She blushed furiously at the thought.   
  
She smiled, bemused at herself. _You still think like a seventeen year old, don't you? But no… you're twenty-four. You could have had children by now._ At this thought, a stab of pain ran through her heart. She could have had Ron's children by now, little redheaded children… they could have matched his parents by now, even.   
  
And that was it, wasn't it? She needed to live again. Even though, to her, it felt like no time had passed, she knew that things had changed. No one had told her yet, but she intended on getting answers.   
  
She lifted her hand and softly pushed Ron, proud that her strength was returning. She might be able to walk on her own today, just a day after awakening. When Ron didn't stir, she pushed his shoulder harder. He growled a bit in his sleep and Hermione giggled. Just as she was preparing an attempt to shove him off of the bed, Ron's eyes popped open, and he threw himself against her and began to tickle her stomach.   
  
Hermione's eyes widened. He had been **awake**. The great prat!   
  
"You… STOP! Stop tickle hehehe… stop!" Ron sat upright and grinned slyly.   
  
"Reflexes of an auror, Hermione. That's the first thing they teach you – be alert all the time... I woke up when you did." He winked cheekily at her and hopped off of the bed.   
  
Hermione tried to look stern. "That wasn't funny, Ron." She grinned devilishly to herself. "I'm still so… so tired…" with this she let her arms drop to her sides, sighing heavily. Ron's smile vanished, and he grabbed her hand.   
  
"Hermione? Hermione, oh, I'm sorry… I forgot, it was just like having you back, oh geez, I'll call the mediwizards back…"   
  
Hermione lifted her right hand and smacked him smartly on the head. "Teach you to tickle me in the mornings."   
  
Anger flashed across Ron's face momentarily, the he shrugged sheepishly. "Right, then. I can't be mad with you – not anymore. Come on, then… Ginny's always up early, and I smell bacon." He winked at her and pulled back the covers, then opened a small closet by the bed. He rustled around in the closet for a moment, and then triumphantly pulled out a pale yellow summer robe. It was light, perfect for a summer day. He held it up, and she pulled a face at it, but nodded.   
  
"You like it!" Ron smiled triumphantly and helped Hermione pull her nightgown over her head. He looked away as she pulled the robes on, and then helped her up.   
  


  
  
  
  
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Breakfast was amazing, even though she never got to eat it. When Ron had turned the corner into the enormous downstairs kitchen (he had insisted on carrying her, whether she wanted to walk or not), she had been surprised at it's size. When he pushed out the swinging door into what she could only assume would be the dining room, she had nearly fainted. There was nothing out of the ordinary in the dining room, this was true – but was waited in the ajoined living room was perhaps the best gift she'd ever been given.   
  
There were nearly thirty smiling faces staring at her. When the door opened, they had begun to clap, and Hermione saw that many in the crowd were crying. She was astounded. Many of the heads in the crowd were red – and there were even little children running around. A little girl who Hermione couldn't identify was standing on a chair, and at her appearance, had begun to yell at the top of her lungs "Auntie Hermione's up! Auntie Hermione's UP!"   
  
Hermione turned her face towards Ron, who was smiling gleefully at her, then turned back to stare into the crowd.   
  
Mrs. Weasley was plumper then when Hermione had last seen her. She was sitting at the front of the crowd, a child on each knee. Arthur was standing next to her, his hair almost completely gray, also holding two children – twin girls who could be no older then two. George (or was it Fred?) was whooping and setting off Filibuster Fireworks, and Fred (George?) was trying to clap with a baby in his arms. The woman next to him rolled her eyes and pulled the child away, and Fred/George ran to his counterpart and began to set off more explosive decorations, some Hermione had never seen before.   
  
Flanking Molly and Arthur were Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall. Dumbledore was holding a brown haired baby in his arms, and he jumped delightedly when it sneezed an astounding amount of phlegm onto his dark green robes and tugged his beard with it's tiny hands. He tried to show Professor McGonagall, but she had her attention focused on Hermione, tears streaming down her face. Dumbledore looked up and smiled kindly, giving her a small wink. Tiny Professor Flitwick had jumped up to share a chair with the small redheaded child who had yelled that Hermione was awake, and most amazing of all, Severus Snape was standing behind Professor McGonagall, one heavily scarred hand on her shoulder. Smiling.   
  
Professor Snape was smiling. At _her_.   
  
Hermione burst into tears.   
  


  
  
  
  
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Half an hour later, Hermione was sitting on an overstuffed scarlet couch, Molly on one side, Ron on the other, Dumbledore perched on the arm, and a child in her lap. The girl, who could be no more then five, had run to Hermione as soon as Ron had put her down, and scrambled into her lap.   
  
"Hi, Auntie Hermione! Will you play gobstones with me? Uncle Ron says you're the best. You're my favorite auntie, I watch you all the time. Uncle Ron said you had to sleep a lot. I like to watch you sleep, but I'm glad you're awake. Do you think we can play soon? Uncle Ron says you're fun. I get to go to school next month! Mommy says I can't go to big school yet, and Uncle Albus says so too, but I wanna! Uncle Ron said it was fun, he said you and Uncle Harry and he had lotsa fun! He said… hey Auntie Hermione, why are you crying? Are you sad?"   
  
All of this was said in one breath, broken, as is characteristic of a four year old. However, she was extremely well spoken, and Hermione had an easy time understanding her.   
  
"Oh, no, sweetie, I'm not sad. What… what's your name, huh?"   
  
The girls face clouded. "I told you when you were asleep, Auntie Hermione!" she scolded. Her face cleared a moment later, however, and she wrapped her arms around Hermione's neck, placing her head on her shoulder. "That's ok," Hermione heard the child mumble, "Uncle Ron said you might not remember, cause you were sleeping. I'm kinda tired too. I woke up early today." With this, the little girl fell asleep. Hermione glanced, bewildered, at Ron. He grinned at picked up the little girl.   
  
"Her name's Xandie, Hermione. Yeah, she's always like this. Percy's first little girl – the others are…" he gestured to the room. "Well, everywhere. She'll be five next month, and she loves you. She comes to the house all the time just to watch you – once I caught her flooing without permission to come see you – thank God the kid has good pronunciation. Four years old and breaking rules, there's a Weasley for you." Ron smiled proudly.   
  
Hermione shook her head, and turned her head to listen to Molly, who had been trying to address her for a few minutes.   
  
"Anyway, dear, after lunch – I've got it all prepared at The Burrow, just need to conjure it here – we'll all leave, most likely. Most of the boys, they've got to go back to work – Bill's on vacation, but he lives so far away, and his girlfriend is waiting for him. Fred and George only closed the shop for half a day; they'll have to be getting back. We wanted to be back the whole day, but Ron said no…" She frowned. "Regular little dictator, he is."   
  
Hermione laughed and hugged Molly. Even though, to her mind, it had been only weeks since she had last seen the older woman, she knew that it had been so much longer, and she would shortly have to deal with the lost time.   
  
That, she knew, would be the hardest part.   
  


  
  
  
  
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After an exhausting afternoon of family, friends, and strangers who she soon learned were both, the house was quiet. Molly had shooed most of the family into the fire around two, and all of the professors had apparted to Hogsmeade for the short walk to Hogwarts. Ginny was slumped over in the corner of the room on a large couch, Harry's head on her lap. They were both asleep, and Hermione couldn't help but smile. Their relationship had become apparent almost as soon as Hermione had taken the time to notice, and she was happy for them.   
  
Xandie was sitting in Ron's lap, talking to him. The small girl had flat out refused to leave the house, and had thrown a fit to equal no other when her father tried to pick her up and walk into the fire. Percy had begun to scold her, but Hermione slowly pulled herself to her feet and held out her arms.   
  
"Let her stay here, Percy. We'll take good care of her, I promise, alright?"   
  
Percy had seemed reluctant, but with a confirming nod from Ron, he turned back to the fire and yelled "The home of Percivil, Penelope, Xandie, Marie, June, and Heddie Weasley".   
  
Ron grinned at Hermione as Xandie gleefully ran at her. "They still haven't thought of a name for their home. Sad, really."   
  
"Yeah, Uncle Ron named here AGES ago!"   
  
"Named this house, Xandie, not named here." Hermione corrected her. The little girl nodded. "Uncle Ron named this house ages ago" she repeated carefully, and beamed at Hermione.   
  
Hermione looked up from the girl to Ron. "What IS this house called anyway?"   
  
Xandie answered for him. "Crookshanks Manor, Auntie Hermione!"   
  


  
  
  
  
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When the little girl told Hermione the name of the house, she couldn't help but laugh. Ron, grinning, had picked up the little girl and whispered conspiringly in her ear. Xandie had nodded and bolted up the stairs so fast Hermione could have sworn she apparated. A moment later, she tramped back down with what appeared to be a large piece of fabric, a think ginger cloak, perhaps. Then Hermione had made the connection, and moments later Xandie dumped a somewhat larger and infinitely more patient Crookshanks into her lap. Ron had shook his sister awake and sent her to bed –she was taxed from running around helping her mother and crying all day.   
  
So now, at eight in the evening, after many rounds of gobstones and one attempted game of chess, Hermione was sitting with a child in her lap and a ginger cat by her side. Both were asleep, and to be totally honest, Hermione was getting a bit stiff.   
  
Harry appeared with a "pop" in front of the couch. He smiled and motioned to Herimione, asking to pick up the child. She nodded, and a moment later, Harry had the small girl in his arms. Her eyes fluttered open and she smiled.   
  
"Hey, Uncle Harry. Gonna tell me a story?"   
  
Harry and rubbed his nose against hers. "Of course, Xan. But it's bedtime, so it'll have to be short."   
  
She nodded. "S'fine… can you tell me about when you and Uncle Ron and Auntie 'Mione got past the three headed dog?"   
  
"Sure, love." Harry bounced her in his arms and began to softly sing. "I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts…" he made a silly "deedle dee dee" noise, "All of them standing in a row…"   
  
Hermione smiled and watched him bound up the stairs, twirling the girl in his arms while she giggled. She had never seen Harry be so… so silly and open. _Well, he is a grown man now. He's just playing with his niece… well, almost his niece._   
  
She sighed and closed her eyes. It had been a long day – pleasant, but with so much going on. She had received so many hugs from people who, in her mind, she had seen but days ago. To them, it had been years, and many of the people had been crying. Familiar, but aged faces flew through her mind. Lavender, Seamus, Neville, Pavarati… Professor McGonagall's hair was completely white. How could someone age so fast? Even seven years wasn't that long… was it? Hermione grew angry with herself. She still hadn't had time to question anyone about what had happened to her, damn it. She needed to know.   
  
Hermione heard a sharp intake of breath across the room and her eyes flew open.   
  
Ron was standing, one hand propping the kitchen door open. He had changed his clothes after bringing her down to the living room that morning, and was now wearing light blue cotton robes. There was a dishcloth draped over one shoulder, and he stared at her, a pleasantly stunned look on his face.   
  
He let the door swing shut, walked into the living room, and smiled down at her.   
  
"For a minute, Hermione, I thought that everything was the way it was before. Then I came in, and here you were… just sitting here in those robes I picked out, looking tuckered out but none the worse for wear. I think it's the best thing I've ever seen." He pulled one hand across his eyes impatiently and dropped to his knees. He grabbed her hand and put it to his warm face, not bothering anymore to wipe away the slowly dripping tears.   
  
"It's been so hard, Hermione. So, so hard… My life ended. The only thing that kept me alive was the hope you'd wake up. It was the only thing that made me do any of this." He moved their hands to one side and set his head on her knees.   
  
A sob escaped Hermione, and she placed her free hand on top of his bright head, smoothing it down. They sat like this for a quarter of an hour, both crying and consoling.   
  
Their was more then one flight of stairs in the house – one that led to the kitchen, two that led to downstairs rooms, and one that lead from upstairs to the living room. It was from this stairway they heard a muffled sniff. They looked up, and Harry was smiling down at them. He bowed his head, smiling, and wiped his eyes on his the sleeve of his robe. He walked down the stairs and sat next to them on the couch, dropping his head on Hermione's shoulder and placing his hand on top of theirs.   
  
Ron looked up and nodded at Harry, who smiled. They both looked to Hermione, then Ron spoke.   
  
"I'm sorry, Hermione. We've put it off long enough. There's a lot to catch up on."  
  
  
  
To be continued... 


	3. Updates and Kisses

**Awake, Lady  
Chapter Three – Updates and Kisses**  
  
  


Sadly, and as always, I am not J.K. Rowling. Such is life. Please read and review, I really do appreciate your comments and constructive criticism. Thank you very much for reading! Oh- by the way, I hope you liked Xandie. She's cute! Heh…  
  
  
  
Ron took a deep breath. "Like I said before, Hermione, we've been… well, putting it off. Not because you don't deserve to know – you do – but because… well, I don't know about Harry, but I just couldn't talk about it yet. I was too happy just to have you here. There's so much to tell, and I know I'll miss some… probably a lot… so we'll have to do the best we can."  
  
Harry nodded. "There **is** a lot, Hermione. You're not going to be able to take it in all at once, I think."   
  
Hermione nodded impatiently. "You can start with general things. Seven years is a long time to be away from the world, and you can't tell me every little thing I missed out on." She said this with a tone of regret in her voice. "I know I wasn't able to be there with you or for you. I wish more then anything that I had been. Go slowly… I know I'm intelligent, but… but guys, I'm still seventeen, in my mind. This…" she gestured to her body, "means nothing to me." Though she had a hard time admitting it, she knew that her mind was still seven years younger then theirs, and she knew that it might make her acceptance of some things more difficult.   
  
Ron smiled and stood, then sat at Hermione's right, taking her right hand and clasping it in both of his. Harry followed suit, and his right hand was momentarily secured to her left.   
  
"Where do you want us to start?" Ron asked.   
  
Hermione frowned, thinking. "Well… the last thing I remember, we were in the Forbidden Forest. We had just been separated… maybe five, maybe ten minutes. I was deeper in then I had ever been before, and I tripped on a tree root… stupid of me, really… and I fell down. I started to get up, but I heard a laugh behind me, and when I turned, there was a Death Eater behind me. I pulled up my wand, and then… well, then I woke up yesterday, here."   
  
Ron nodded again and rubbed the back of his neck. Hermione couldn't help but catch a glimpse of a silver chain disappearing into his robes, and Ginny's words echoed in her mind. _He started building the house, and said that this was the house he would have built for you when you were married. He wears the engagement ring he was going to give you on a chain._  
  
Harry had begun to speak, and Hermione pushed the thought to the back of her mind. _Later!_ she told herself sternly.   
  
"God, getting separated was the dumbest thing we've ever done, Hermione. And you of all people know we've done some god damned stupid things."   
  
"Harry!" Hermione cried. "Language!"   
  
"Jesus, I missed that." He smiled. "Anyway… Ron and I had also gotten split up, but after about three minutes we found each other again and started to look for you. We had all but forgotten finding that stupid plant for Snape – "  
  
"Bloody git." Hermione interrupted, forgetting about her dislike for curses.   
  
Ron and Harry looked unsettled, but Ron was the first to speak. "Hermione…" he said, squeezing her hand. "Snape… he's different. Ever since then, he's different. He stopped sleeping, and he started to look even worse, after your accident." Ron said this in a tone that implied it was hard for him to admit these truths.   
  
"Accident?"   
  
He started. "Attack. At first, we thought, well, what we always had – that he was all for it, that maybe he did it. We should have known better, I guess – we knew Dumbledore had sent him off for something important on our side in fourth year…Anyway… when the mandrake draught didn't work… all he did day and night was try and find something to help you. He locked himself in his dungeons, he cancelled classes he didn't even acknowledge students for months at a time. Dumbledore allowed him his private rooms and replaced him with another professor."   
  
Hermione sat in shock. Of course, she had seen Snape smile at her today, and had been astounded – but she hadn't realized just why he was so happy. He had blamed himself.   
  
Harry smirked at Hermione. "You know he's serious, 'Mione – It's was very hard for Ron and I to get over our bias. I think the only thing that convinced him he was really worried was when he exploded and gave Snape a bloody nose."   
  
Hermione blanched. "You attacked a teacher, Ron?! You could have been expelled!"   
  
Ron shrugged and smiled slightly. "I didn't care at the time. Amazingly, neither did Snape. He just pulled a handkerchief out of his cloak, put it on his nose, and wheezed 'I hope you feel better, Mr. Weasley. In the meantime, I suggest you save your aggression for more important matters then attacking the man who wishes to save her. Two points from Gryffindor.' That was it."   
  
"Anyway", Harry continued, "we're already off topic. Where was I?"   
  
"The plant." Hermione answered.   
  
"Right. We were starting to look for you, and then we heard you scream, but we still couldn't find you. Finally we sent up sparks – not little ones, either – and summoned McGonagall. She got to us in a few minutes, and Dumbledore apparated right next to her, even though we hadn't used a summoning spell on him. He had your cat in his arms, and he dropped him to the ground. He didn't say anything, he just followed bloody cat, and we found you in a few minutes."   
  
Hermione looked proudly at her cat, which was now sleeping on the hearth.   
  
Ron laughed. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, we know – you're widdle Crookshanks is a genius."   
  
At the mention of his name, the huge cat had rolled over on his back and stretched, then settled his big green eyes on his mistress.   
  
"When we found you", Ron continued for Harry, "we both thought you were dead. Your eyes were closed and we couldn't find your wand at first. After we went back to the castle with your…" he swallowed and continued hoarsely, "With what we thought was your corpse… Hagrid went back into the forest to look for the person who did it, but all he found was what we left of your wand. It was in about eight pieces – they're in a box in the nightstand next to your bed."   
  
Harry nodded. "The whole way back, Ron and I… well, we wouldn't let anyone come near your body. Professor McGonagall tried to take you from us, and we screamed at her till Dumbledore told her that it was okay. We carried you back together – we couldn't organize ourselves enough to use magic." Harry turned a bit red. "We put you on a bed in the hospital wing, even though we thought it was a moot point, and we just sat on the bed and held you. We wouldn't let anyone come near us; we were so sure you were dead. Finally, Madame Pomfrey got to examine you, even though she couldn't get us away. Even she thought you were dead at first – but then your heart beat, and she yelled that you were alive. Turns out, your heart only beat once every ten minutes while you were in that coma… sleep. The doctors called it permanent petrifaction, and thought you would stay that way until your natural life span expired. You stayed in the hospital wing for the next two months while school finished, and then we graduated."   
  
Hermione's face went from intrigued to downcast. "That's right. We were so close to graduation. Do you… do you suppose I'd be able to make up the last two months somehow, and get my diploma?"   
  
Ron grinned at her. "You don't need to. Dumbledore said that he felt you had done more then enough to merit full credit for graduation. Actually… you were valedictorian. Your diploma is hanging in the library, next to mine. Bloody wonder **I** graduated, though."   
  
Hermione was flabbergasted. "I graduated? Really? Honestly? That's… that's… oh, wonderful! Oh, this is wonderful; I can start where I left off! Oh, wonder – huh? Wait, in the library? The Hogwarts library? Oh, no, in my room? Bit of sarcasm on your part, by the way – keeping my bed in the library."   
  
Ron stared at her incredulously. "Maybe we should have the medi-wizards examine you again. Seems you've gone soft over the last few years. That's not the library you were in – that's your room. The library is between your room and mine, and it's much bigger. Actually there's a door in your closet - you can go straight through."   
  
Hermione stared. Her mouth opened. It closed. It opened once again. A faint "Hwza?" was all she could manage. "There's a library in this house? In **your** house? My…you've changed."   
  
"Not in that aspect, I haven't. I don't read all that often – Ginny gets the most use out of it. I suspect you'll earn that title soon enough though." He paused, and then paled a bit. "That is… if you stay here. I mean, I don't expect you to, or anything, but, while you're, you know, getting better…"  
  
Hermione nodded. "That's fine… I'll impend on your hospitality for a bit longer, I think. When I get a job, I'll pay rent, I promise."   
  
Ron looked relieved. "Aw, you don't have to do that, 'Mione. We're fine off with my money. Aurors get paid a good bit."   
  
Harry winked at her. "Especially aurors who work as much as he does."   
  
Hermione shook her head. "This is all fine, but it's…" she checked her watch, which had been replaced by the one she owned seven years ago when it had stopped working, "almost nine, and we still have six years to get through."   
  
Ron threw up his hands in mock sorrow. "Up a day and already a slave driver!"   
  
Hermione tried, unsuccessfully, to look stern. "Continue."   
  
"Fine, I think I will. So we graduated, even though Harry and I basically failed the last two months. We almost never left your bed, hoping you'd come out of whatever it was naturally. When school ended, we weren't quite sure what to do with you. We didn't want you to have to stay at St. Mungos for the rest of your life. My wonderful mum decided to come through for us though. She said that since George and Fred were out of the house now, there should be no reason you couldn't have their room. Said she could take care of you just fine now that she didn't have to watch out for the twins so much. So that's how it basically was for the next couple of years. Somewhere in the middle, I decided that you would have been ashamed of me for not having a job and just moaping around the house, kicking things, so I went to the Ministry and applied to be an Auror."   
  
Hermione nodded again. _My neck is going to hurt if I keep nodding this much_., she thought briefly, _ but oh well_. "Ok… so we've vaguely covered two or so years. But Harry," she said, turning to her friend, "What about Voldemort? I mean, before I went into this coma, or sleep, or whatever it was, there was news in the papers every day about people finding the Dark Mark over their houses and Voldemort's ascension to power. What about that?"   
  
"Well," he began, "Ron only covered what was happening with you the first two years. With the rest of the world, everything was very different. About eight months after you were attacked, and six after we graduated, Hogwarts was attacked." He squeezed her hand as Hermione gasped. "Yea, we know. On December 15'th, a group of Death Eaters stormed the castle and broke their through the enchantments. It took them a while, so the students were alerted. The teachers told them that sixth and seventh years would be allowed to fight, if they so chose. Everyone else was locked in the common rooms, and the spells on them were reinforced so it would take even longer for the Death Eaters to get to the students. McGonagall sent out a message to all of the families in Order of the Phoenix nearby, and they started to apparate outside of the common rooms depending on where their children were, or where they had been themselves when they went to school."   
  
"Harry," Hermione sighed, exasperated. "You cant appa-"  
  
He laughed. "I know Hermione, you can't apparate inside the Hogwarts grounds. Or, you couldn't then, and you can't now. Well, when the Death Eaters attacked, that was one of the first spells to go. We were lucky that there were also separate anti-apparation spells around all the common rooms, and that the Death Eaters had so many other protection spells to break around the rest of the grounds that they never had the time to get to the younger students. It gave members of the order and six and seventh years time to rally against them. Ron and I were called sooner them many others, so we couldn't apparate – they Death Eaters hadn't broken the seal by that time. We were forced to apparate behind the group of Death Eaters, just inside of Hogsmeade. Many of the residents of Hogsmeade had come out of their houses when they had seen the Death Eaters, so there was already fighting." He frowned, as if pained by his memories. "I watched Mr. Wizzlwug – you remember, the owner of Dervish and Bangs - die. All of the shop owners left the shops open and started to fight when they saw what was going on, and a few, including Mr. Weasley, apparated from the Ministry when their families or the order called. Not many, of course – the Ministry had instated heavy penalties to what they deemed "traitors", and people were scared.   
  
Ron reached behind Harry and patted his friend on the shoulder. "S'ok, mate. So wizards started coming from everywhere, and I even saw a couple of goblins and hags, and apparently, whatever work Hagrid and Madame Maxime did after fourth year worked, because two giants showed up. We started to fight with the Death Easters so they couldn't concentrate on breaking the spells protecting the castle. We knew they were trying to get Dumbledore, but we had completely forgotten that they also wanted Harry. We saw the teachers and older students materialize from the front of the grounds and also start to fight, and after the apparation spell had been broken, other members of the order. We wedged the group of Death Eaters between us, and pushed on them from all sides. Even my mum and all my brothers were there. We were all surprised when Ginny showed up in the ranks of student fighters, but none of us had the time to try and force her back to the common room. We were gaining the upper hand, and then Voldemort came. He apparated into the center of the Death Eaters who were still fighting, and it seemed to give them a second wind. We started suffer heavy losses all at once, while Voldemort just stood there."   
  
He paused, and looked to Harry. "Do you want to tell the next bit?" Harry shook his head and motioned for Ron to continue.   
  
"Harry and I fought our way into the center, and we saw Dumbledore and Voldemort preparing to duel. We both ran straight to them, and Voldemort turned to Harry. Dumbledore kind of just shook his head, and Harry just stared back at Voldemort, not flinching or anything."   
  
He smiled proudly at Harry, who was looking a bit queasy from the memory. "So they just kind of stared at each other for a bit, and then all of a sudden, Voldemort smirked and cast Crucio on Dumbledore. He told Harry that if he even tried to touch him, he'd kill Dumbledore, so we didn't do anything. Then all of a sudden, even though he was on the ground, Dumbledore forced his head up and stuttered 'Death is the next great adventure, Harry. I'm not afraid, and there are more important matters then my life.' So Harry attacked Voldemort. Since his wand was on Dumbledore, he couldn't turn it to Harry, and their wands couldn't lock. Harry tried to cast Avada Kedavra, but it wasn't working. I figured I wasn't being of any help just standing there, and I tried it too. Still, nothing happened actually happened, except that Voldemort dropped his wand and grabbed his head. We heard a girl scream, and when I looked, Ginny and Snape were attacking a Death Eater behind us. They stunned him, but Snape had blood all over him. It turns out that the Death Eaters had rallied against him, of all the other teachers, the most. They all wanted to kill him and make their master happy, and he was torn apart. Still, he walked up next to Harry and I, then raised his wand and also cast Avada Kedavra. Then the most amazing thing I've ever heard happened – Ginny cast it. She once told me that she'd never cast an Unforgivable curse if she could help it… she was pretty bad off afterwards, even though it **was** Voldemort. When Snape had turned his wand on him, Voldemort dropped. It was the most awful thing I've ever seen, Hermione…" he shuddered at the memory.   
  
"You remember how Hagrid once told us that there wasn't enough life in him to die anymore? He was pretty close. We had to concentrate on killing him for nearly five minutes, and when the surrounding Death Eaters realized what was going on, they attacked us. Luckily, our side had taken the upper hand again, and they were able to keep us safe so we could concentrate. Finally, Voldemort died. His eyes started to bleed, and rips started to appear on his body. His robes and face were covered with blood, and then his limbs… they started to turn to ash, one by one. He was screaming, and even after he didn't have a mouth, we could hear it. Finally, it stopped, and all that was left was his cloak and a pile of ashes." He took a deep breath.   
  
Hermione's heart beat double-time. "He's dead. He's gone. Wonderful…" her eyes were downcast. "It really is wonderful. I just wish I could have helped."   
  
Ron put his arm around and put his hand on her head. "You did."   
  
Hermione turned, staring questioningly at him. "In what manner? In staying alive while everyone who was caring for me was out of the house? That's not much to be proud of. I know it sounds bad… but I wanted to be there when he died. He… he killed my parents, Ron. I wanted to get revenge for them. I wanted to make him suffer… I know it sounds awful, but I wish I had been there."   
  
Ron smiled softly. "It's not awful. And you were there, in part. You see, before it all happened… only just three months, actually… well, wait. Let me start over. When you were asleep, the doctors couldn't wake you or make you exhibit your powers, but they were there. They checked again and again, thinking it was a mistake, but it wasn't. All of your power was locked inside of you, and was just sitting there. So a few months before the attack, we talked to Dumbledore. Everyone knew that Voldemort was going to have to attack somewhere, at some time, to attempt to overturn the Ministry. When didn't know when or where, but we knew it would happen. We also knew that you would have wanted to help, so we tapped you. Harry and I, we took your power from you."   
  
Hermione looked alarmed. "I'm not a witch anymore? My power is gone?"   
  
"No, no!" Ron quickly replied. We borrowed it temporarily. You're still a witch - you're fine. While you were in the coma, after we took some of your power, you only had about a quarter of your normal magic level in you – that was what was keeping you alive. A muggle would have died instantly, and it was your natural power that kept you alive. So we borrowed seventy-five percent of your magic and split it between us for when we'd have to face Voldemort. If either of us had died, your magic would have returned to your body."   
  
Hermione was obviously relieved. "Okay… I understand. You had me worried – since I don't have a wand, I haven't done any magic since I've woken up, so I didn't know either way." She turned to her friends and smiled at them. "Thank you, Ron, Harry. Thank you for knowing that I wanted to be part of it no matter what."   
  
They nodded and Harry spoke again. "It was all we could think to do, Hermione." He hugged her and continued. "After Voldemort was killed, the Death Eaters apparated back to wherever they had come from. They left their dead and wounded behind, and we collected them. During the attack, members of the Ministry who had wanted to fight but would have been considered traitors attacked Fudge's office. There was a coup, and a new minister was instated. Fudge was sent home, not punished or anything. We identified the dead Death Eaters, and then locked up the wounded. We didn't use Azkaban – the dementors had released many of the Death Eaters who had returned to Voldemort. They were put under guard the old fashioned way – manpower. When they were examined, we found that the Dark Mark on their arm had slit open and wouldn't stop bleeding for days. Finally, it did, but it left a deep groove lined in black, and the skin inside the mark turned a bruised color. Stayed that way, too. Most of them are still locked up, and more have been added, thanks to Ron and other Aurors."   
  
Ron's ears turned pink. "Mostly other Aurors." Harry glared at him.   
  
"Don't you play it down, Weasley." He turned and addressed Hermione. "He's caught over a hundred Death Eaters in the last five years, and ninety-seven have been convicted and sentenced. None of them will get out before they die. The other seven killed themselves before they went to trial. They only person remotely close to him Angelina, and she's only caught fifty or so of those bastards."   
  
Hermione gaped at Ron. "I think…" she began. "That even though I still have plenty of questions, I've heard enough for one night. That is, of course, unless the next six-and-a-half years were as exciting as the first."   
  
"Actually," Ron said, smirking a bit. "Life got pretty anti-climactic after that." 

  
  
  
  
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Harry had said goodbye, after promising to meet Hermione, Ron, and Ginny for a trip to Diagon Alley the next day. Hermione would need a new wand, there was no doubt, but she also wanted to see what had changed while she slept.   
  
The fire had crackled down to ashes, occasionally popping. Crookshanks was asleep with his feet tucked underneath him, bottlebrush tail twitching every now and again. Hermione had closed her eyes, still trying to absorb all of what her best friends had told her, and Ron watched her raptly. A short while later, she opened her eyes and smiled at him.   
  
Without speaking, he took her hand and helped her up to her room. She almost didn't need the help anymore –she was walking rather well, and there was no pain. She didn't pull her hand away to walk by herself, however. They made their way up the stairs, and Ron turned back the covers on her bed.   
  
An overwhelmingly familiar sight met her eyes when she looked up. Ron was staring down at her, tips of his ears red, looking uncomfortable.   
  
"Well, goodnight then." He said.   
  
Hermione tilted her head, and then slowly nodded. Ron turned to leave the room.   
  
"Ron?"   
  
He turned back. "Yeah, 'Mione?"   
  
"Thank you." She held out her arms.   
  
He jumped slightly and walked back to the bed, and was pulled into a hug. Suddenly, he felt her warm breath at his ear, and a whisper.   
  
"I would have died if it had been you. Thank you for believing I'd come back."   
  
Ron closed his eyes and buried his face in her warm neck, taking her scent in. She moved her small hand to the nape of his neck and rubbed it. He pulled back.   
  
"Can I…" he gulped. "Can I kiss you?"   
  
She smiled. "We've kissed before, you don't have to ask."   
  
He shook his head slightly. "Not like before… I mean, can I kiss you… not as a child…" his face reddened further. "As a man, kissing a woman he… is in love with?"   
  
Hermione's limbs went numb, and the bottom dropped out of her stomach. As an answer, she closed her eyes and tilted her head, moving closer to Ron.   
  
Ron wrapped his arms around her back and pulled her body flush with his and placed his lips softly to hers.   
  
Hermione was lost. There was nothing but the feeling of Ron's lips against hers, his arms across her back. For the third time in her life, the concept of time was lost on her. They could have been there for a second, for an hour. It was all the same to her – it was perfect, it was good and kind, it was loving, it was undeniably _right_.  
  
Slowly, the world began to return to her. Her hand was still on his neck, and she felt the cool metal of the chain he wore. Without thinking about it, she pulled it up and out of his shirt, still kissing him. He pulled back from her kiss, reaching for the chain.   
  
His voice shook. "A lot of things have changed, Hermione. Ginny told me she talked to you about…" he now had the ring in his hand, "this. Someday…" he held left hand, and gently put it on her ring finger, chain still attached, and linked his fingers with hers. "Someday… I want this here, forever. For now…" he kissed the palm of her hand and pulled the ring off again. "You need to know me."   
  
Hermione began to protest. "I know you, Ron, you're…"  
  
"Different." He finished for her. "I'm not the same Ron, and you might not… feel the same about me as you did seven years ago."   
  
"Of course I do! There was no time between then and now, for me, and-"  
  
"But there was time for me. I might not be the same person you were in love with. I'm older, and not much wiser, and I'm a workaholic, and I'm socially inept. I want you to… I want you to love me the way you loved me before, even if I'm different. So…" he dropped the ring and chain back into his robes. "For now, it stays here. When you know for sure… you can break the chain and the ring is yours – either way you choose, I want you to have it. And so, if you want it, is my life. In the meantime…" he held her hand and gently put it to his chest, where she could feel his heartbeat softly pounding, "this is forever yours. For better or worse. It's been like that since before I was fifteen. Irrevocably and totally. Goodnight."   
  
He put his hand to her cheek and gently kissed her again, then walked from the room, giving her a quick smile over his shoulder before he closed the door. A moment later, she heard his door shut. The tap in the bathroom went on, then off again, and she heard no more from him.   
  
Hermione wasn't able to move. She sat, mind blank, for minutes after Ron had gone to bed. Somewhere in the house, she heard a small sob, and a moment later, there was a timid knock on her door. The knob twisted quietly, and Xandie poked her head in, mouth quivering. Tears were streaming down her little cherub face, and she sniffled softly.   
  
"Auntie Hermione, I had a bad dream."   
  
Hermione smiled and held out her arms, as she had for Ron. Again, a redheaded wonder came to her.   
  
"It's okay", said Hermione, smoothing the girl's hair and wiping away her tears. "You can sleep with me tonight, and in the morning, we'll go shopping for books and wands, and all kinds of wonderful things, if your daddy doesn't mind." She kissed Xandie's forehead and patted her back.  
  
The girl grinned happily and hopped under the covers. Hermione lay down next to her and turned out the light, and in minutes the girl's slow, rhythmic breathing indicated that she was again sleeping.   
  
Hermione closed her eyes, remembering the feeling of Ron's lips on hers, and of the ring around her finger.  
  
  
  
I hoped you all enjoy reading. I'm really having a lot of fun writing it. And for reference – I never know what I'm going to write till I write it. I rather surprised myself by bringing physical romance – even just a little – into the story this early on. In any case, this is becoming a bit of an obsession, writing fiction, so I hope people like it. 


	4. How Deep the River Flows

To my reviewers: Oh, Goodness, I really DO appreciate your comments – it's what makes me keep writing, really. I'm so very glad that people enjoy my story! If you've merely commented, thank you very much – and please continue to make me a happy woman by doing so! Of course, there are those who have questions, so I'll take this bit to address them:   
  
Indus: It's hard for me to write in too much conflict, oh, I just want to make them be happy forever! J   
  
Annabelle: Tee hee… I like Xandie, and not just for the obvious reason (this reason is obvious only to me – figure it out, and you get a cookie).   
  
wmlaw: Oh yes, physical romance, I FINALLY got to it. It's hard to not write a bit of a love scene, hehe…   
  
SilverFlame: I'm not sure at all how many chapters this story will have! To be totally honest, I kind of write it as it comes – so far it's been coming fast, but I don't know if it'll stay at that pace. I think - perhaps, mind – that maybe less then five. This could change though.   
  
Psychic: Oh, don't feel guilty about asking after Malfoy – I don't blame you. If someone wrote a fic with the characters after school and didn't mention Ron, I'd be absolutely livid, and enquire immediately! Read on, love…  
  
  
  


  
  
  
  
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**Awake, Lady**  
Chapter Four: How Deep the River Flows

  
  
  
Hermione's hand was resting on something soft and silky, like spun silk. Senses slowly came to her. The sunlight sunk through her closed eyes, mellow and soothing, the cool air of the room refreshing her. She was fully awake before she opened her eyes, and her breathing had deepened. She felt Xandie curled against her chest, and for a moment, indulged herself in the fantasy that the girl was not her niece, but her daughter, cuddled with her mother to be warm and safe, away from bad dreams and monsters of the night. A little daughter with bright red hair, soft, just like Ron's… part of Ron, part of her. She sighed and felt the child stir against her, mumbling incoherently.   
  
It wouldn't do her any good to pretend. For now, she scolded herself, she needed to find out just what Ron thought was so different about himself, why he wouldn't let her love him. In her mind, just days had passed since she had seen his boyish face. Now, she knew he was a man. Just days ago, in her memory, he had blushed hotly when she slipped his hand into his on their way back to Hogwarts after a day in Hogsmeade. During those last few days in seventh year, right before the accident, Ron had noticed Hermione becoming bolder in her affections. Even though she knew Ron was hers, she had wanted to reassure him of that fact. Sometimes, when he looked at her, his face drooped sadly, and she wondered if she knew just how much she meant to him – after all, Ron had never had great self esteem, had he?   
  
Though she was only seventeen, Hermione had loved him with all her heart, she had shyly and somewhat reluctantly admitted to herself one day late in her sixth year. Thoughts of his children – her children… **their** children were not new, that was true… but now things were different.   
  
Lying in bed, a twenty-four year old Hermione mulled over these thoughts. She had known what she wanted at seventeen – she knew what she wanted now. Problem was, for her, those ages were mere moments apart, and Ron thought that it would change her love for him. Before her accident, she had known Ron in so many incarnations – a boy who hated her, a boy who loved to hate her, her best friend, a boy who hated to love her, and finally, he had admitted, a boy who wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. She knew without a doubt that no matter how much Ron thought he had changed, her feelings hadn't, and wouldn't. Now, only to convince **him** of that.   
  
That was for later. Right now, the sun was streaming directly down upon the heavy coverlet, and Hermione was growing uncomfortably warm. Slitting her eyes open, she saw that Xandie had returned to a serene sleep, not seeming to mind the warmth. Hermione gently pulled her arm from under the girl's neck and slipped quietly out of bed.   
  
She pulled open the door to her room crossed the hall. She was having no trouble walking now, though her legs ached a bit, as if she had been exercising. She stretched as she walked and opened the bathroom door and began to pull her long nightgown over her body.   
  
All at once, Hermione realized that her skin was damp with steam. Though the shower was not running, a white mist hung in the air heavily. She gasped and averted her eyes. Ron was across the large bathroom, wiping off his face, dressed in nothing more then a towel draped around his slim waist. When he heard her gasp, he had turned to face her, and had immediately frozen. Though Hermione was no longer looking at him, he tightened the towel and fumbled to secure it better.   
  
Hermione glanced up quickly again. "Hello."   
  
Ron smiled timidly and ran a small towel over his hair. "I'll go ahead and leave. You can use it… sorry about that. I didn't realize you'd be up this early – thought you'd want to sleep. I'll… I'll just go now, all right? Right. Yes."   
  
He glanced down and back quickly, face reddening. "Your gown" he said, sounding uncomfortable. "It's… mussed." Hermione blushed as she realized that her nightgown was revealing an unladylike amount of thigh, and she quickly pushed it down. She nodded at the ground, and Ron made his way past her, turning in the doorway to accommodate them both. When he turned, his head neatly skimmed over hers, and she enveloped in the smell of soap and… she didn't know. Ron. That was the only way she could ever explain it.   
  
She snapped the door shut and twisted the lock, hands shaking. She had never been near Ron in such a – a-…. She blushed again. A _sexual_ situation. That was almost as bad as muggle romance novels, for goodness sake! She shook her head and attempted to turn her mind to the day ahead of her. 

  
  
  
  
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Ron swiftly made his way back to his room, shutting the door (perhaps a little too hard). He dried his hair and changed into his clothes for the day, dark blue robes with black lining at the sleeves and bottom. He had safely diverted his mind to the workload he was going to have when his weeklong vacation was over. Of course, his boss had insisted on at least a seven-day vacation, though he had asked only for four days off when Hermione had awoken. Ron smiled as he remembered what his supervisor had told him. "Cant have my best man troubled with what's going on at home, can I, Ron? I expect you to tend to what's more important." He said this with a small smirk on his face. Though Ron had never explained exactly what was going on in his home life, Robbie was by no means stupid – he remembered the stories in the Daily Prophet during his third year on the job.   
  
Ron still couldn't believe she was back. Seven years of watching her still face, holding her hand, lying by her motionless body… it had finally paid off. There were still things she didn't know, things she'd have to cope with, eventually… who had made her (or really, Ron) suffer those seven years… what had exactly happened to her… why they weren't able to wake her up. And then, there was him. Ron still loved Hermione as much (if not more) as he had the day of the attack. In his heart, he had been married to Hermione for nearly eight years – he loved her more then life itself. He'd die for her, kill for her, anything. But he wasn't going to let her believe that she loved someone she didn't. Oh, he knew that she at least thought she did – but why would she? Seven years would inevitably change a person, and no matter how much she loved him seven years ago, she wouldn't now.   
  
Though a full-grown man, Ron still suffered from low self-esteem when it came to Hermione, rest of the world be damned. He didn't care about his work or impressing strangers, his boss, and sometimes even his family. All he cared about was her, now. He had been serious when he told Hermione that he was a changed man – he was now more sorrowful then he had been before, more serious, and less inclined to care about what most people thought of him. Hermione, however… 

  
  
  
  
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Hermione rifled through her closet and dressed herself quickly, then sat on the bed and gently shook Xandie awake. "Come on, sweetie" she said softly. "Time to wake up."   
  
The little girl woke slowly and smiled at Hermione. "Mm-kay, Auntie H'mione." She stretched and pushed the covers aside, wiping the sleep from her eyes. Hermione helped her get dressed, and then they went downstairs to the kitchen for breakfast.   
  
Ron was making breakfast, long robes covered with a ridiculous looking apron. He pointed his wand at the stove, mixing together eggs and bacon and all sorts of things. Xandie ran to her Uncle and threw her arms around his legs.   
  
"Uncle Rooooonnnn, hi! How did you sleep? I had a nightmare, but Auntie Hermione lemme sleep with her and now I'm better. What's for breakfast? Can I have chocolate pancakes? Please, please pretty please?" The girl's eyes grew wide and enquiring, and Ron laughed, picking her up.   
  
"You, my darling" he said "are so adorable that I think I have to. It's a downright obligation, isn't it?" He swung her around, and her small face lit up with joy. "Now, Goose, why don't you show Auntie Hermione around the kitchen and set the table?"   
  
The girl nodded and grabbed Hermione's hand. "C'mon, Auntie. See, here's the forks and knives and spoons, up there's the bowls and stuff."   
  
Ron smiled down at Hermione as the girl introduced the kitchen to her. Shortly, the table was set, and Ron dropped a heap of chocolate chip pancakes much to high for her to eat in front of the small child. She laughed gleefully at the huge stack and began to dig in. Hermione helped herself to one smallish pancake and a piece of bacon, thinking she wouldn't eat much. It wasn't that she didn't trust Ron's cooking… oh, who was she kidding? Of course she didn't trust Ron's cooking! She had once watched his mother attempt to teach him how to poach and egg, and Ron had managed to make it fly around the room, spattering the kitchen in a vicious mess.   
  
Ron served himself a stack of pancakes, a heap of eggs, two pieces of bacon, and a large mug of pumpkin juice and smiled at Hermione. Noticing she was simply moving around the food on her plate, not eating, he frowned.   
  
"Is your stomach upset, Hermione?" He asked her, worried. "I can make you something easier to eat – soup or something, if you like. I mean, I know that's weird for breakfast, but mum says good old chicken broth settles your stomach…"   
  
Hermione forced a grin. "No… it's fine, my stomach's not upset."   
  
Ron's face suddenly changed into an evil smile. "You're thinking about the time mum tried to get me to fry an egg, aren't you?"   
  
Despite herself, Hermione's smile became real and widened. "Actually," she said teasingly, "You were supposed to poach it. In any event, neither got done." He shook his head and loaded his fork with a large bite of chocolate chip pancakes, gesturing at her with it as he spoke.   
  
"Now see here, missy. A lot of things have happened while you were asleep, and me being a gourmet cook is one of them. These…" he indicated with his fork, "Are the best pancakes from here to Scotland." He gave an over exaggerated sigh and gestured to his small niece, who apparently had an appetite to rival Hagrid's. "If she didn't like them, trust me – she wouldn't eat them. Decidedly finicky, that one. Now…" he stood up and crossed to where Hermione was sitting, still holding the heaping forkful of pancake. "I suggest you eat this before I make you." Though he tried to sound menacing, Hermione could only laugh as he made the fork dance in front of her face. Xandie had temporarily taken her attention away from her breakfast, and was watching her aunt and uncle with interest.   
  
Hermione looked dubiously back and forth from Ron do the pancakes. It certainly smelled good, this was true… maybe it didn't taste so bad. She may as well trust Ron's food, she decided – she may be eating it for a while yet. _After all_ she reminded herself sheepishly, _you can't cook either, can you?_   
  
Ron was standing with one hand on his hip, leaning over Hermione, fork still poised. She rolled her eyes and reminded herself to tell Ron just how much he looked like his mother sometimes, then obediently opened her mouth.   
  
Ron set the fork down and stood back, crossing his arms. He smiled smugly as Hermione's face broke into a large smile and she began to devour the food on her plate. He went back and sat in his own chair and smiled happily at her and his niece, who had turned back to her own food. When he attempted to retrieve her empty plate, Hermione slapped his hand and grinned at him. "I'd like to eat some more, if you don't mind." He laughed and cleared his own plate and began to clean the kitchen. 

  
  
  
  
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Ron picked up Xandie, who promptly did the small-child-who-doesn't-want-to-be-held squirm. Ignoring her protests, he propped her up on his hip. "Say goodbye to Hermione, Goose. You've got to go home now."   
  
The girl immediately began to whine. "I wanna go with you and Auntie, Uncle Roooonnnnnnn. Please? Please? Please?" Her eyes began to film over with tears and she struggled to get out of his arms again, leaning over and holding her arms out to Hermione. Hermione pulled the girl to her, though somewhat awkwardly. She hugged her tightly and kissed her forehead.   
  
"It's ok, sweetie. You can come visit us anytime you want, you know. I'll be here for a while." She cast a meaningful glance at Ron, who nodded then looked into the fire, obviously pleased. "In the meantime, if I hear from your mum and dad that you've being a good girl, maybe I'll have a treat for you and your siblings." Xandie broke into a grin, her mock tears disappearing. "Now", said Hermione, "Into the fire with Uncle Ron. I'll see you later, I promise." Saying this, she handed the girl to Ron, who threw a pinch of Floo powder into the large fireplace, then walked into it.   
  
After he had gone, Hermione went up to her room. She still hadn't really looked around it much, and was surprised to find a rather large pile of pictures in one drawer in the dresser. She made a mental note to herself to buy frames and boxes for them today. The rest of the dresser held a large assortment of clothing, both muggle and wizard. The nightstand next to her bed had only a single drawer, which housed a few hair clips and a small velvet box. Remembering what Ron and Harry had told her the previous night, she slowly opened the box to reveal the pieces of her broken wand, which had been reduced to eight large splinters. She sighed and tucked the box into her robes and pulled out one of the larger hair clips. She used it to secure her busy hair at her neck, and then turned to leave the room. She gasped and shrank back.   
  
Ron had been standing behind her, watching her with forlorn eyes. She drew a calming breath and then swatted his arm.   
  
"Don't do _that!_" she yelled.   
  
He flinched and reached out a hand, dropping it on her shoulder. "I'm sorry – I didn't mean to scare you. I was just… I came up to get you. We might want to get going now, you know… We're already late." She nodded.   
  
"That's fine… sorry for yelling. Where's Ginny?"   
  
"She left earlier, went to Harry's flat." He grinned roguishly, looking like a teenager again. "Not even going to speculate what those two are up to."   
  
Hermione looked at him, shocked. "You're ok with it, then?" He nodded. "You **have** changed, haven't you? Youd've never accepted that in school, the two of them."   
  
He shrugged. "It's fine. I was only worried then because of Lord Voldemort. Her being related to me was bad enough – dating Harry would have put her directly in the line of fire."   
  
"You said his name!" Hermione exclaimed, referring to the former Dark Lord.   
  
He smiled and gave her back a pat. "We all do, now. It's easier that way…" He shrugged again. "We should get going, huh?" He took her elbow and they walked downstairs together.   
  
"You first" he said, handing her the bag. "I'll come right after."   
  
She nodded and threw a pinch of Floo powder into the fire and said "The Leaky Cauldron".   
  
She walked into the fire and pulled her legs and arms close to her body, twisting and spinning. A moment later, she stumbled out of the fire and into the Leaky Cauldron, which apparently hadn't changed much. Tom let out a whoop of glee when he saw her stumble out, and come out from behind the bar, giving her a great hug.   
  
"Lil' H'mione Granger, I'll be a damned old fool. I heard you were awake! S'good to see it's true, lil girl." He gave her a toothless grin and gestured towards a corner. "Mr. Potter and Miss Weasley are waiting over there for you." He gave her hand another squeeze and turned as someone else emerged from the fire.   
  
"Hello, Tom." Ron and he stumbled out of the fire. "Good to see you again." Tom nodded, still smiling, and gestured towards Hermione's receding back. Ron followed and sat down on one side of the small square table, shooting a grin at his sister, who was holding Harry's hand.   
  
Ginny smiled back and checked her watch. "You two are late, you know. You were supposed to meet us at eleven, and it's nearly half after." Ron shrugged and pointed at Hermione.   
  
"Blame her", he said. "She had about four helpings of breakfast, so I couldn't floo Xandie home till eleven ten or so. Then, of course, Perc insisted on lecturing me about something…"   
  
"What's that?" asked Ginny. Ron grinned.   
  
"Who knows? I was ignoring him."   
  
Hermione stifled a laugh, but shortly began to cough when Ron dropped his hand on top of hers and squeezed it good-naturedly. Ginny grinned and pushed her water at Hermione, who drank deeply before she stopped coughing.   
  
Ron had moved his hand and was patting her back, laughing. "Something go down the wrong pipe, 'Mione?" She nodded and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.   
  
Harry smiled at his friends and shot a significant look at Ginny. Nodding she stood up.   
  
"Come on you two, we have a long day ahead of us. I'm sure Hermione has tons of shopping to do." Hermione smiled at Harry gratefully   
  
"He's completely right. I need to go to Gringotts and withdraw money, then I need to go to Madam Malkin's – I really don't have many robes without the Hogwarts crest on them, these ones must be Ginny's, and I can't very well wear those the rest of my life. Let's see…" she thought out loud. "There were some pictures in the drawer in my room that appear to be from my collection. I'll need frames for those. Oh, and of course, I'll need a new wand." Her eyes suddenly lit up. "And **books**, oh, there'll be so many more new books now!"   
  
Ron shook his head, standing. "Fine with me. Sounds like a day of hellish shopping for us, then."   
  
Hermione cast him a glare. "You don't have to come, you know."   
  
He held up his hands in defeat. "No, no, I'll come, and I'll be good." He grinned at her. "If you're lucky, I'll even make dinner tonight."   
  
Ginny grabbed Hermione's hand and began to pull her to the back of the Leaky Cauldron. "If we let these two lead, we'll never get any shopping done!" She pulled out her wand and tapped the appropriate bricks in the wall, and the doorway to Diagon Alley opened in front of them.   
  
At first glance, it seemed to be exactly as she remembered. Wizards and witches of all ages were bustling about the street, carrying assortments of packages and wearing cloaks of all colors and shades. Ginny and Hermione walked towards Gringotts, Harry and Ron behind them. The men sped up and appeared at the sides of their ladies, Harry putting an arm around Ginny's waist, and Ron clasping Hermione's elbow, as if he were a guardian leading on an orphaned child.. After a short, harrowing ride in a Gringotts cart (that certainly hadn't changed), the group made their way to Ollivander's.   
  
Harry and Ginny agreed to wait outside while Hermione went with Ron into the store. Mr. Ollivander's cracked old face broke into a small smile when he looked up.   
  
"Ah, Miss Granger. Oak, ten inches, unicorn hair. A bit ridged, wasn't it? You're here for another one, I suppose?" Hermione nodded and the old man made his way up a ladder and began to pull down long, thin boxes. Opening one, he handed her its contents. She waved the wand. Nothing. She tried wand after wand, to no avail. Ron had begun to look bored, and was slumped in a chair, arms crossed, brows knit..   
  
"Rather tricky. That's all right – we'll figure it out. Lets see…" he rubbed his thumb against his chin, thinking. "This would be easier if you had kept your old wand, but…"   
  
"Oh, is that what you need?" Hermione interrupted. "I'm sorry, I forgot – but I did bring it with me." She pulled the box out of her robes and handed it to Mr. Ollivander, who took it happily.   
  
"This," he said, "Should make the process much easier. He opened the case, a look of sorrow on his face. "Unfortunate. But it does happen. In any event…" he set the pieces out on the counter and tapped his own wand directly in front of them. The shards began to glow red and the old proprietor directed his wand at the wall of wands to his left, then to his back, then his right. Four boxes in various places began to glow, and the gently floated down to the counter. He nodded, satisfied, and handed the wands to her one by one. The third wand she tried produced a flash of green and purple sparks when she pointed it towards the wall, shattering the shadows with their brightness. She smiled, and Mr. Ollivander softly clapped, his old wrinkled face breaking into a bit of a grin.   
  
"Very well, Miss Granger. Six galleons, please." The old man held out his hand for the money, and Hermione began to dig into her money pouch for them.   
  
"Thank you, Mr. Weasley. You two have a nice day."   
  
Hermione looked up at the old man, who now had his back turned to her, and was depositing money into a register behind the counter. She looked at Ron, who unsmilingly nodded and tugged her out of the old shop by the elbow, the wand still in her hand.   
  
When they got out into the street, Hermione again began to pull out her money pouch to pay Ron. When he saw what she was doing, he put his hand gently and impended her from opening the clasp.   
  
"No." His voice sounded slightly irritated, and he looked around them silently. "Don't. If it makes you feel better, call it first month's rent."   
  
She stared at him for a moment. Ron had never been particularly loose with his money, for obvious reasons.   
  
"Well..." she began.   
  
"Oy! You two! You were in there forever, I thought I was going to have a beard by the time you got out." Harry clapped Hermione on the shoulder and peered inquisitively to her hand. "Nice wand, 'Mione."   
  
Hermione smiled and asked jokingly if he'd like to be a test subject for her first usage of the wand. Harry quickly stepped back, hands raised, and Ginny laughed. Ron was staring down the street, faced away his friends and sister.   
  
Noticing his distemper, Ginny nudged him with her shoulder as she walked by him. "Come on, you great prat." She said as she went by. "Smile sometime. It'll do you good." Hermione thought she heard a note of sadness in the girl's voice, but in the next moment it disappeared, and Ginny had begun to walk down the street. "I think we should go to Madam Malkin's next, Hermione." She called over her shoulder. "Let the boys go look at Quality Quiddich Supplies – they'll only get bored and annoying."   
  
Ron began to protest that he wanted to go with them, but Harry silenced him with a soft punch on the shoulder. "Hey, they've got a new Firebolt version. We should check it out. Besides, she's right – we will just get bored." With this, he pulled Ron into an adjacent street that led to the Quiddich supply store. Ginny linked her arm with Hermione's, and they silently made their way to Madam Malkin's.   
  
It was nice, Hermione mused, to have some time with Ginny. Though she has been with Hermione most of the time in the last few days, they had rarely been alone. Everything had been so hectic, and there hadn't been any time to simply enjoy each other's company.   
  
Upon entering Madam Malkin's, they were attacked by a flurry of colors. A very busy and hassled looking woman was attending to a girl and what could have only been her twin brother. The two children were probably no more then twelve, and were both fidgeting as she attempted to fit them for their robes. Their brown haired mother was in the corner talking with a young attendant with highly spiked purple hair. Hermione fought her giggles – the poor thing must have eaten one of Fred and George's candies. From what she understood, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes was a popular store in Hogsmeade – she still hadn't had the chance to visit – and this girl's head seemed to be a good example of a trick gone right.   
  
Ginny smiled at the woman fitting the two school age children, and nodded over at her young co-worker, who cast Hermione and Ginny an irritated look, then excused herself from the woman she was speaking to.   
  
"Hey." She said, walking over. "My name's Lizzie. What do you need?" the girl had no trace of politeness in her voice, and the irritated look was still on her face. Ginny rolled her eyes and murmured so only Hermione could hear "good service." Louder: "We need to fit Hermione here for some robes. She'll need a complete wardrobe, I think – she doesn't really have anything." Lizzie cast Hermione a look of curiosity, her irritation dissipating. "Really? Nothing? How can you have no clothes?" she inquired nosily.   
  
Hermione shrugged. "Oh, I do have some robes – just nothing without the Hogwarts crest on them.   
  
The girl eyed her. "You're pretty old to only have Hogwarts robes. What, you been asleep since graduation?" she said sarcastically.   
  
Hermione winced, and Ginny answered for her. "You could say that. Now please" she pulled Hermione up onto a raised pedestal. "Fit her. We're in rather a rush to leave."   
  
Lizzie shrugged and turned to the counter to pick up a pincushion. Ginny mouthed "for the obvious reasons", and Hermione simply shook her head in amusement. The rude young girl threw an oversized black robe over her and with a few swishes of her wand, made it fit Hermione perfectly. She eyed the robe, satisfied, and began to move to a wall covered with nothing but rolls of fabric.. Her nosy, rude attitude had dissipated, and she was all business now.   
  
"Will you need a cloak?" she asked, rifling through rolls of fabric lining the walls. Before Hermione answered, Lizzie turned to her, eyes slit. For a moment, Hermione felt very uncomfortable – the girl was just staring at her. Then, Lizzie broke into a smile, and said "yes." Quietly to herself.   
  
"You need burgundy." She nodded and pointed her wand at several rolls of dark red fabric. "And black, of course – every witch needs black. And green. And purple." She turned scrutinizing to Hermione again. "No, no blue. You're not a blue, are you? No, you're not." She aimed her wand at a beautiful burgandy fabric swirled with silver roses. "Dress robes?" Hermione shook her head, but Ginny yelled "Yes!" and the red fabric joined a pile of other rolls on the table.   
  
Hermione was beginning to become nervous. She needed clothes, but she didn't need a ton of them! "Ginny…" she began, nervously. "I don't know that the money I brought will…" Ginny turned to her, smiling, and squeezed her hand.   
  
"Don't worry about it, Hermione. Ron and I will cover anything you can't afford – you can blame me!" she said happily. Hermione tried to protest, but was hushed by a flurry of fabrics in Lizzie's arms.   
  
The girl held each up to Hermione, grunting to herself in pleasure or displeasure as she moved the fabric around her. At some point, Hermione realized the flurry of fabric was no longer being supported by the girl, and moments later all of the colors dropped to the ground. Lizzie held, in her arms, a pile of clothing, now shaped into robes and a heavy black cloak. She set the pile down and began to rifle through it, pulling out a set of dress robes made from the beautiful red and silver fabric.   
  
She smiled, pleased, at it. "I know they all fit, but I want to see this one on you." She handed it to Hermione and shooed her into a fitting room.   
  
Hermione slipped into the robes and began to fumble with the intricate buttons at the back of the robes. "Ginny!" she softly yelled. "Ginny, I can't button this!" She heard Lizzie tell Ginny to stay put. "If she can't do them herself, you wont be able to either. I made it kinda hard." There was a note of pride in her voice. "But it'll be great, trust me."   
  
Lizzie entered the room and without a word began to loop the ties together at Hermione's back, buttoning and twisting. With a small "humh" of satisfaction, she pulled Hermione out of the room and onto the fitting pedestal. Hermione heard Ginny gasp, and looking into the mirror, she realized why. She looked wonderful. Hermione tilted her head and looked at herself. Ginny was feeling the material at her waist, and Lizzie had crossed her arms, a self-satisfied look on her face.   
  
The dress dropped a little lower in the front then Hermione would have normally worn her clothes, but it wasn't totally immodest. The neckline was squared, and the robes fit tight on her waist, dropping and puffing out slowly from there on. The back was composed of a plethora of loops and buttons, and two long trails of sheer fabric cascaded down her back.   
  
Hermione smiled at her mirror image and pulled her hair back. She turned to Lizzie.   
  
"It's… very, very nice." She said softly. The girl smiled smugly. It _was_ a very pretty dress. Rude or not, Lizzie sure knew what she was doing.   
  
"I know. Let me go ring up the rest of your stuff, huh?" She turned and began to count the robes, occasionally turning to a small mirror behind the counter and brushing up her hair.   
  
Hermione turned back towards the dressing room to change, still smiling. She was just stepping down from the pedestal when she heard an oddly heavy voice command her.   
  
"Stop."   
  
She looked towards the door, in the direction the order had come from. "Are you-" she began, annoyed that someone was ordering her around.   
  
Ron was standing at the door of the shop, Harry behind him. His face was unreadable, and his arms were still at his sides. He was staring at her, and under his gaze, Hermione began to blush. Did she not look as good as she thought she did? Maybe he didn't like it. It was burgundy, after all, and burgundy and maroon are very close. Maybe she could get it in green. Maybe someone he knew someone that had one just like it. Maybe he'd stop staring at her soon.   
  
Maybe she didn't want him to.   
  
Ron put one hand to the back of his neck and bent his head, staring at the ground. "You look wonderful. I like that color on you." Hermione turned redder and smiled shyly at the ground. "Thank you, Ron." She said.   
  
Lizzie then noticed Ron. Smiling, she walked out from behind the counter, fluffing her hair up. "Hello, sir." She said, her voice honeyed. "Can I help you? Some new robes?" She put her hand on his chest. "These ones pull tight across your chest. Muscled men have to buy robes more often, you know…"  
  
Hermione's smile froze on her face. Was that awful girl actually coming on to Ron? He had been in the shop for less then thirty seconds! Of course he was cute – maybe he got that all the time, but how horribly rude of that girl!   
  
She had no reason to worry, however. Ron was looking down at Lizzie, an expression of total annoyance on his face. He grabbed her wrist as if he would a spider, the annoyance shifting to distaste. He tossed her hand away and moved away from her. "No thanks." He said curtly. "I'm not interested. In fact, I'm **really** not interested. I have better… robes… at home.   
  
Understanding dawned on Lizzie's face as Ron said this – he was, after all, still looking at Hermione. She sneered at him and glanced, irritated, at Hermione. He quickly shifted his gaze to his younger sister, silently pleading with her. Ginny strolled forward and grabbed the back of Lizzie's robes, pulling her towards the counter.   
  
"We'd like to leave now, please." The girl glared at her then swung around and silently finished her adding. Hermione turned to the dressing room to put on her borrowed robes, smiling to herself. She heard nothing from the front room, and when she came out, her purchase was bagged and Lizzie wasn't in sight. Her co-worker had finished with the children long ago, and now gave Ron a pat on the back.   
  
"Well then, let me see what she's added up… oh, there's a bit of a mistake on here I see…" She corrected the young girl's mistake and circled a number at the bottom of the paper. "Why, we almost cheated you. Bad addition, I'm sure." She grinned impishly at Ron, and handed the slip of paper to Hermione. Before she read it however, Ron pulled it from her hand and reached into his pocket.   
  
Ron quieted her with a look when she began to protest, and she turned helplessly to Ginny. "I can't keep letting him pay for all my things!" she hissed at the red headed girl. Ginny rubbed her back. "Let him" she said quietly. "It makes him feel good. He's not doing it to make you uncomfortable – he just wants you to be happy.   
  
The older store attendant smiled at Ron after she had deposited his money into the register and gestured to the unseen back room. "She's a fiery on, that. Best to stick with what you've got, though. You obviously agree." The witch laughed to herself and winked at Hermione. "Have a nice day, young ma'am." Hermione thanked her and picked up the bag full of clothing, leading out of the store. Harry was waiting on the steps for them, and leaped up when the came out.   
  
"Oy, I'm getting bored. Where else do we have to go, anyway?" Hermione glared at him, and he remembered. "Oh, right."   
  
"How could you forget?" Ron asked.   
  
"Too many hex's –"  
  
"I spose so."   
  
"How could I forget?"   
  
"You're stupid."   
  
"Shut up."   
  
"We have to go to Flourish and Blotts." They finished together. 

  
  
  
  
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"I" said Ron, "Am completely bushed. Shopping really takes it out of you." Hermione laughed, and swatted him on the head.   
  
"So says the man who bought only an ice cream cone for himself." She said, still picking at her dinner.   
  
Harry and Ginny had apparated to Harry's apartment when the foursome had returned from shopping, and neither Ron nor Hermione had heard from them since then. That was at four thirty – it was now seven, and Ron and Hermione were eating dinner. Hermione hadn't allowed Ron to buy her books for her; though she had a hard time convincing him that she should buy them herself, he had eventually acquiesced on the terms that he was allowed to cook dinner, which really wasn't much of a compromise at all. Though she had come home (and she now regarded it as home) with a bagful of books, there were many more she would have bought, had Ron not stopped her. He had let her roam the bookstore by herself, choosing whatever book she liked. After making their purchase ("Two hundred-sixteen and a Half Ways to Use Frog Intestines for General House Maintenance") Ginny and Harry had left the store, promising to meet Ron and Hermione again in an hour outside. Ron later swore that when Hermione had moved her books to the counter, the cashier made the sign of the cross and said "Score!" but before he could ring them up, Ron pulled nearly a quarter of them, neatly placing them in a pile on the counter. When Hermione questioned him about it, he simply shrugged and said, "We have all of these at home." Astounded but pleased, Hermione nodded and paid for her purchases.   
  
When they returned to Crookshanks Manor, Hermione had immediately excused herself to the library, which she still hadn't been able to visit. She noted that it wasn't huge, but it was very nice for a home library. She had settled into a large overstuffed armchair, the sun streaming in through two wall high windows, and had begun to read one of her books. Ron had come in about two hours later and settled himself on the couch across from her, smiling and opening a copy of "Quiddich Monthly". In this way they had spent the remainder of the day, enjoying being with each other.   
  
So now they were eating dinner, a nice pasta dish with some sort of shellfish in it. They ate quietly, with Ron occasionally making small talk. He informed her about Fred's marriage, and George's engagement; his mother's glee at having grandchildren; Dumbledore's impending retirement, and most surprisingly, Malfoy's entry into the Ministry. There was no spite in his voice as he talked of this – it was simply a fact, and nothing about it seemed to bother Ron. When she asked further about it, he simply shrugged.   
  
"So many things have changed." He said. "That's one of them. Malfoy fought against his Lord – and his father - when Hogwarts was attacked. As far as I'm concerned, well, that at least makes him tolerable. Then we worked together, and even though at times it didn't go so well… well, sometimes different situations make you see something differently." He continued eating silently for a few minutes, and then suddenly spoke.   
  
"Hermione, I'm sorry about last night. I shouldn't have done what I did – I had no right. You were vulnerable. I didn't have any right. If it bothers you too much, how I was, I'll leave, ok?" He looked at her, ashen faced.   
  
Hermione wasn't sure how to react. Vulnerable? Not her. She had wanted what had happened – and it was only a kiss, anyway. Just a kiss. She opened her mouth, and closed it again. Finally, she pushed her chair away from the table.   
  
"Ronald Martin Weasley, you're a great, stupid git." With that, she leaned down over his chair and kissed him. She felt him draw a sharp breath, and his chair scooted back. She settled into his lap, still kissing him, framing his face with her hands. He pulled his arms around her and stocked her back softly. She pulled away from him, and looked into his strangely dark blue eyes.   
  
He was breathing quickly, and his face was contorted with emotion. "You… the way I love you…" His eyes began to shimmer with unshed tears, and his voice was shaking. "That girl today… it's been like that before. No one compares – they disgust me. I've never even…" Hermione prodded him. "I've never even be able to even have a fling with another girl, no matter how much my body wanted it." Hermione wasn't so surprised by this until the reality of it hit her. They had never been sexually intimate. If, in all this time he had never – with another girl – been… He really **had** waited, hadn't he?   
  
"You're everything to me, Hermione. Even if you left me, it wouldn't matter as long as you were happy. You could marry someone else and have his children. You could cast any hex on me. It doesn't matter. I would still love you till the day I die. Just now, I hoped that more then anything you would tell me I'm a great idiot for saying what I did. I love you more then anything. I dreamt about you every god damned night for years. I could never bring myself to take a dreamless sleep potion – that meant I wouldn't be able to see you. The only time I ever had you in my arms with you awake was there. I couldn't give that up. I'd die for you, kill for you, I'd kill myself for you."   
  
Hermione shook in his arms. "That" she said in a whisper. "Will never, ever be necessary. I've loved you since I was fifteen, and I'll love you till I'm two hundred."   
  
Tears slowly dripped down his face, and he buried his hands in her hair. She smiled through her tears, and reached into Ron's robes, pulling out the long, thin chain that held their future. Ron had begun to cry in earnest now with his happiness. She smiled, pulling back, and snapped the clasp on the chain.   
  
"This" she said quietly, sliding the ring onto her left ring finger. "Is mine. And this…" she stroked his face and brushed her lips on his. "Is mine. And this…" she put his hand on top of her heart. "Is forever yours." 


	5. Mixed Souls

  
  
Warning: Pure mush ahead. I couldn't help myself… This chapter honestly doesn't have much content. Please please please review, and read the notice in bold at the bottom. Also, please read one of my new stories – Surviving Without You.   
  
Annabelle: You're very close – probably closer then you know. I do know this person very well, but it stands to reason that some people may know her better then she knows herself.   
  
  
  
  
  


**Awake, Lady**  
Chapter Five: How Deep the River Flows

  
  
  
"Yours." _His. Forever._   
  
The words, actions, and their implications had an effect on Ron like none other. He pulled his arms tightly around Hermione and stood, still kissing her. His breath quickened, and she pulled her legs around him as if by instinct. He hoisted her higher, and she hooked her legs around his hips, not missing a beat. Just moments ago their kiss had been tender and soft, conveying only their absolute love and adoration for each other. Now it had deepened, had become passionate and wanting. Though tears were still on both of their cheeks, their faces had become hot against each other, as if a thin sheet of fire were between them. They kissed like this for a moment, and then Ron pulled back.   
  
"U-understand. I'm very happy right now. But if we don't…" he stuttered again as Hermione kissed his neck softly. "If we don't stop now, then-" he was silenced again by Hermione's warm breath near his ear.   
  
"I don't want to." She pulled back, her face cocked questioningly. "Do you want to finish dinner?" she teased gently.   
  
Ron looked at the set table, smiling. "Well, we **are** only halfway through. Maybe-"   
  
"You're killing the moment, Ron."   
  
He pressed her closer to him. "You started it, anyway…" he whispered softly.   
  
Hermione kissed his bottom lip. "Then you…" she said, still brushing his lips as she spoke. "Should finish it." Had she been thinking rationally, she would have been astounded at her own boldness, but now was not the time for thought – now was the time for action.   
  
Her words sent Ron into frenzy, and he instantly kissed her harder, gently prodding her mouth. She opened it to him, and felt him sigh deeply. Suddenly, he began to move through the room, Hermione still wrapped around his tall frame.   
  
Past the island, into the stairwell, up the stairs (she almost hit her head on the turn), through the hall, fumbling for the doorknob, and finally the bed. He began to gently lay her down, but found that she wouldn't pull her legs away from his body. Without protest, Ron simply shifted their intertwined bodies upward so they were fully on the bed. For a few minutes, they simply kissed and felt each other, sliding their hands down each other's sides and putting their hands in each other's hair. Ron pulled back again, obviously trying to restrain himself. Her eyes were large and glossy, the pupils dilated, and a smile played on her lips.   
  
"Hermione, I have to ask." He seemed short of breath, and his bright red hair was tousled. He buried his face to her neck. "Do you really want this?"   
  
"Yes. I want to do this with you.." Even in her current state, Hermione couldn't help but turn the situation to her control, and Ron smiled, and then nipped her neck. "Just…" there was a trace of fear in her voice. "Try not to hurt me."   
  
He pulled back and stared at her. His voice croaked, heavy with emotion and want. "I'll try. I want to make love to you. I've never done this either… you'll have to…" He laughed gently, running his hand down her body. "Tell me what to do."   
  
The irony wasn't lost on Hermione. "Always." Was her only answer.  
  
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"It's amazing," said Hermione, "How you wake up one day being one body and one soul, and the next wake up sharing one soul with another body." She was lying on her side, her head resting on Ron's shoulder, gently tracing runes on his chest with her index finger.   
  
"Oh, I don't know... I've woken up every day for the last eight years or so feeling that way. I never thought you'd feel that way though. He turned to her, locking his eyes with hers. "You're so beautiful."   
  
Hermione smiled and turn to look into his face. "Like this? Naked? With bed-head? With stinky breath?"   
  
He laughed and rubbed her back through the thin sheets. "All of the above - Especially the first, of course. And anyway, bed-head is an underrated aspect of loving someone." He fell silent, gently running his hands through her hair and down her back. She was beginning to fall asleep when he squeezed her and aligned his face with hers. Her eyes popped open and met his beautiful blue ones. "Hermione" he began, seriously, "Was that okay, what we did?"   
  
She smiled and ran her hand through his red hair, making it stand on end. "To be totally honest, it hurt a little."   
  
His face took on a look of petrifaction. "Damn it!" he said, "I knew I shoulda - God, I'm sorry, look, if you don't want to –"   
  
Hermione placed her small hand over his mouth, ceasing the flow of words. "Just because it hurt a little," she said, "doesn't mean I didn't like it or didn't want to. I wanted to. And we did, and…" she smiled coyly at him, "I won't object to doing it again. You didn't do anything wrong – you didn't take advantage of me. In fact, everything about it was right. Everything about waking up next to you is right. Except, maybe, that you're so utterly paranoid that I'll hate you for loving me." She smiled endearingly at him and cuddled up to him, her back against his front, his arms around her and his head over her shoulder. They silently spooned like this, gently moving in and out of sleep for the next hour.   
  
Ron slit his eyes halfway open, and then shielded them with a hand against the lines of light breaking through the slats in the window. Hermione felt a rumbling against her back, and laughed as she realized what it was.   
  
Ron stretched and moved over Hermione, smiling. "So I'm a bit hungry – I was active last night. Time to replenish the resources." With this, he flipped back the covers and began to move around the room, straightening a few things and throwing their clothing in a laundry basket, apparently unashamed of his nudity. Hermione flushed and giggled slightly – it was true, it was nothing she hadn't seen last night, but he was so casual about it. Hearing her, Ron turned, one hand on his hip and the other at the back of his neck.   
  
"What?" he said.   
  
Hermione grinned. "You're so… unembarrassed about prancing around the room in the nude!"   
  
He shrugged. "Yeah? Do you want me to stop?" He grinned and pulled the coverlet from the floor, where it had fallen the night before. He pulled it up to his chin, letting out a fake scream. "Aiee! You're seeing my-my-my _man parts_!" he yelled in a falsetto.   
  
Hermione rose from the bed. "Oh, I didn't say that!" she said, pulling the comforter away from his body and embracing him. "I only meant that a few years ago, you would have been so embarrassed if I had seen you naked."   
  
Ron ran his hand down her spine. "I guess you're right, aren't you? Well, nothing new about that – you being right, that is - but _Jesus _is it refreshing to hear. Now, what do you want for breakfast?"   
  
"Mm… just a fried egg and some toast and tea, if you don't mind."   
  
Ron kissed her nose lightly and gave her one last squeeze. "Whatever the lady wants. I'll go to Canada for genuine Canadian ham if you want."   
  
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Your love runs _so_ deep, Ron." He gave her a lopsided grin and pulled on a garish orange robe with "Cannons" embroidered on the back.   
  
"You have no idea. I'll be downstairs, I'll go ahead and shower after breakfast."   
  
Hermione couldn't help herself. She tightened her embrace and kissed Ron's collarbone gently. "Lets make breakfast together" she said. "We wont be in the shower long."   
  
"Bossy as ever. When I die, heaven will be this way. God will push me around."   
  
"Of course."   
  
  
  
**I've found I'm having a hard time writing this story now. Mind, I don't want to stop… but I seem to have hit a blockage in my writing J. What I want, you see, is a co-writer. Someone to suggest ideas and help me continue the story – that is, if the reviewers wish for me to continue. I know the story has much more potential then anything else, and I want it to be good. So please review and let me know how you feel, and e-mail me if you're interested in contributing ideas or helping write the story from here on out – with credit, of course. I've noticed that many of the people who read the story have very good stories themselves, and I would greatly appreciate the help. **


	6. The Girl who Never Grew Up

Before I start: PLUG! (myself) Please also check out my two new stories, Surviving Without You and Turning. Amazingly, Turning doesn't even MENTION Hermione or Ron... it's a Peter Pettigrew fic. Please read and review!  
  
  
**To my reviewers**: You guys are so good to me! I ask for ideas and help, and you guys just rallied right up and gave great suggestions! I've started to implement some of them, and I plan on going further. You guys give me the inspiration to write, you give me a reason to be creative. It makes me feel wonderful to know that people like my writing so much that they'll contribute to the work as a whole so that it continues. I want you all to know just how much I appreciate it, I really do. Thank you all from the bottom of my heart. Also.. just in case anyone wanted to know... I think I passed my AP English exam (which I was positive I would fail, before going into the test)! Yay!   
  
sgquill: You've been a great constant reviewer, and your kind words and help with the story are something I truly appreciate. Thanks you.  
  
ice blue: Thank you too, for your constant (and consistent!) reviews about the story.   
  
Princess Sam: Luckily, just having all of this positive feedback and suggestions actually kicked me into gear… or maybe it was my couple of hours of The Princess Bride I was able to read today ;)   
  
Indus: I have to say, I think you're one of the reviewers who's contributed most to the writing of this story without actually writing it. You have wonderful ideas and you give great feedback to me, and I really do appreciate it. And, although I haven't reviewed your stories, I have read them all, and I think you're a great writer. Next time I have the time, I will most definitely review your stories too.  
  
Tamashii, TaMara R, : Thank you very much.. I know I didn't email you, but just from the reviews on the board I was able to move through another chapter, and the enjoyment of writing it hasn't diminished at all. I probably will contact you in the future for help though, if you don't mind ;)  
  
Annabelle G: Didn't Poe do a poem about a woman named Annabelle-Lee? I was a child and she was a child,/In this kingdom by the sea;/But we loved with a love that was more then love-/I and my Annabel lee;/With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven/Coveted her and me. Anyway… You've also been one of the most helpful reviewers I have… I can never say enough about you guys, all of you, you know? Having support like that... it's wonderful.  
  
  
Please enjoy, everyone. Credit goes to **Indus** and **Annabelle G** for suggesting the bulk of this chapter. And as always - please review, good, bad, or otherwise! (And I own nothing)   
  
  
  
  


  
  
  
  
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**Awake, Lady**  
Chapter Six: The Girl who Never Grew Up

  
  
  
The last few days had been bliss. Neither Ron nor Hermione had allowed the outside world to penetrate their reverie, their recent re-discovery of each other.   
  
This would explain why Harry had a damned hard time getting them to answer the door. He had to knock for a full three minutes before Ron, bleary eyed and shirtless, had finally appeared at the door. He knew someone had to be home – Ron still had a few days of vacation till Robbie expected him in, he knew. Since Harry's office was just down the hall, Harry talked to him every day – and even if he was out in the field, Ron had him come over to the house, or they went out at night. Harry had been starting to worry about his best friend. Oh, he was no fool –Hermione was back, and of course Ron would want to dedicate his time to her. But, Harry thought as he pounded on the door, he was her best friend too, and he missed her just as much (not in the same way, granted) as Ron.   
  
When he heard a series of click behind the door, Harry stepped back and crossed his arms, and look of irritation taking over his features. Ron smiled sheepishly at his childhood friend.   
  
"Oy mate. Uh… how's Ginny?"   
  
Harry rolled his eyes and pushed past his friend, moving into the house. "_Your sister_ is fine. Not as if you've checked in the last few days. Every time I tried to call through the fireplace, I didn't get an answer. Ginny apparated over here two nights ago, but she came right back and wouldn't tell me what was going on at the house."   
  
Ron reddened and put up his hands in defense. "Hey, I'm sorry, I've just been occupied the past few days." A look of excitement crossed his face, making him appear boyish – though in truth, some of Ron's childlike features had never really left, like the freckles scattered across his nose. Ron gestured to his bare neck, grinning at Harry. It took a moment to click, then Harry's mouth slackened.   
  
"You… did she… she… you…" Harry suddenly whooped, jumping up and down, slapping his best friend on the back. He bolted towards the living room yelling Hermione's name. Hermione ran into the room, confusion and panic on her face. "What's wrong? What's wrong?" she yelled.   
  
She calmed down when she saw the grin on Harry's face, and squeaked as he picked her up by the waist and spun her around in his arms, just as he had done with Xandie a few days ago. Now she was merely confused, not panicked, and she held Harry around the neck as he spun her.   
  
Unfortunately for Hermione's prudishness, when he finally put her down, she remembered what she was wearing – or not wearing, it could be said. She yelped and bent over, trying to conceal the amount of leg Ron's old t-shirt was showing, then bounded up the stairs. Once she was out of sight, she yelled down the banister "I'll be right back down, alright?"   
  
Harry grinned and turned to Ron, his face turning smug. "So _that's_ why the two of you haven't bothered to visit or talk to me or Ginny lately."   
  
Ron nodded peevishly. "Yeah yeah… wait, what was that you said about Ginny?"   
  
"Oh, she came over a few nights ago to see how you two were doing. Wanted to invite you over for an early dinner, you know?" Harry's eyes narrowed in false anger. "I can only guess what she saw."   
  
Ron's face turned a furious red, and he immediately changed the topic. "So… Ginny's been staying with mum and dad then? If she hasn't been over here for the last few days…"   
  
"Oh, she was here, but only for a few minutes. Went straight to her room and back, she said. She brought enough clothes for a week over to my place."   
  
"Your place?"   
  
Harry smiled nervously. "Well, actually…"   
  
Ron threw up his hands in disgust that was only partially mock. "Forget it," he said, "I don't even want to think about it."   
  
Hermione's voice interrupted them. "Think about what, Ron?" She had returned from upstairs in a pair of jeans, still wearing the shirt that had been such a cause for embarrassment.   
  
Harry answered before Ron could. "About how bad you two have been the past few days." Hermione froze at the bottom of the stairs, the blood rushing into her face.   
  
"We… did a lot of reading, and shopping and stuff. Yes, stuff." She nodded dumbly, still beet red. "Lots to catch up on and-"   
  
Harry rolled his eyes. "I was talking about not being social. What were _you_ talking about?" He smirked infuriatingly.   
  
Hermione looked to Ron, who simply smiled and shrugged, enjoying her discomfort.   
  
"Nothing. Nothing at all." She squawked. "What was it you were so excited about a minute ago?"   
  
Deciding to no longer tease, Harry smiled affably and gestured to her left hand. "Congratulations, that's what I was so excited about. If it means what I think it does, at least."   
  
Hermione smiled a bit dreamily. "Something like that. We still haven't discussed details much."   
  
Ron moved to Hermione's side, sliding an arm around her waist. "You two look like you want to talk, eh?" he said. "I'm going to take a shower, be back down in about a quarter of an hour." He turned and ran up the stairs, taking them three at a time.   
  
Hermione's blush had begun to fade, and she swatted Harry on the arm. "You prat. I can't believe you teased me like that!"   
  
She moved towards the kitchen. "Do you want some tea? I think Ron said that there's some leftover muffins in the breadbox, too…" 

  
  
  
  
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Ron couldn't help but smile and he hopped down the stairs. Life, he decided, was definitely good. The girl he loved was back, and he'd finally have his happily ever after. After all, he thought, grinning to himself, the heroes in storybooks always have a happily ever after, and if he, Harry, and Hermione weren't heroes, he didn't know who was.   
  
This may be why, upon entering the kitchen, it was such a shock for him to see Hermione sitting in Harry's lap, face buried in his neck. His eyes were closed, his brow furrowed.   
  
Now, seven years can do a lot to a man – and so it was with Ron. Had this happened eight years ago, Ron would have been at their side and pulled Hermione out of Harry's lap, quick as a whip, then beat the hell out of his best friend. Having grown over the years, he would diffuse this situation a bit differently.   
  
He would give Harry a five second head start, he decided as he moved into the kitchen.   
  
"What the he-" He stopped short of the embracing pair, his inertia pulling his torso a bit further then the rest of his body. Hermione had turned to face him, and what he saw made him lose all of the furious ideas that had engulfed him for the last few moments.   
  
Hermione drew a few sharp, gasping breaths. "I-I-I-I" was all she could manage. Her body shuddered and she launched herself into Ron's arms. Frightened, he pulled her into the living room, depositing her on the couch. Harry moved beside them, concern on his face.   
  
"Ron, she started crying… said she was scared this morning when I came in … Ron, I think she's hyperventilating!"   
  
Hermione's face was streaked with tears, and she was gasping, though no breath was drawn. Ron leveled his face with hers, pulling her attention to him as they locked eyes.   
  
"Hermione, look at me. Calm down. Breathe slow." She shook her head, gasping. Ron held her tightly, feeling her shake beneath his touch.   
  
"Harry - Harry, what's that charm Flitwick taught us for panic attacks and the like?"   
  
Harry shook his head, feeling lost and helpless. "S something… s something!"   
  
Hermione struggled against her body, forcing her vocal chords. "Sss—ed-d-d-otis" she managed.   
  
Harry aimed his wand at his friend. "_Sedotis!_" he yelled. Hermione's body went limp and still on the couch, and after a short pause, she drew a deep, strong breath. With Ron and Harry's help, she sat up straight on the couch. Harry pulled a handkerchief out of his cloak pocket and began gently wiping her face. Ron, meanwhile, looped his arms around her shoulders and was making the same soothing noise he remembered his mother made for him when he had nightmares, one hand in her hair.   
  
"Shhh, it's ok, darling. Shh… shhh…"   
  
Harry made to move away, but Ron stopped him. "Don't go anywhere, mate, alright?"   
  
Harry nodded. "I was just going to get her some water… _Aquis Compleo, Accio glass._ A glass of water floated through the open kitchen door and into Harry's hand. He moved it to Hermione's mouth, and helped her take a short sip. After drinking, she leaned her head on the back of the couch, hiccupping twice before she spoke.   
  
"I'm sorry… so sorry. I've been… the last few days, I've kind of pushed e-everything back… to the back of my mind, you know? I thought I've been handling it well… like an adult…I've always been the adult one, and I thought, I thought, oh… oh, I don't know what I thought." Hermione bent over, her arms across her knees, and put her head onto them. She was breathing slowly, but they could tell she was crying.   
  
Ron and Harry looked at each other over Hermione's form. Blue eyes bore into green, both active with concern. Ron shifted his glance to Hermione, the back up and Harry. Harry shook his head, baffled.   
  
Another long, labored breath, and Hermione sat back up. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, attempting to totally compose herself.   
  
"I didn't want to think about… about all of this. You know?" She searched her friend's faces, the pupils of her large chocolate eyes dilated slightly. "Then all of a sudden, today, when Harry came in… the noise." Her voice rose from a whisper. "You remember what it was like, back then – any noise like that was trouble. If you heard noise in the na-na-night, yelling, you knew… you knew something was wrong." Again, her voice rose with every word. "It was only a half a year ago, god damn it, not eight and a half years! My parents did not die the long ago! Voldemort isn't dead to me, this isn't acceptable! I cant remember, I need to know!" She was yelling now. "This has not happened, I will not tolerate this, I will not!" Suddenly, it was as if the life went out of her. She pulled her knees to her chest, resting her forehead on them, defeated.   
  
"I'm still a child. I'm a child in a world I can't control." She whispered.  
  
  
  


  
  
  
  
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Oh... _there's_ the drama! :) Bet ya'll thought I'd never get to it, huh? 


	7. The Parts that Exist

Two words: I lied (ignore this comment if you didn't catch the original chapter seven, which was an explaination of how I wont be able to write much in the next few weeks). I know it's not much, but I felt the need to write. ;) I had a bit of time at school, so I went for it. Couldn't help myself. I hope you all like it, even though it's not so great (in my opinion). Please enjoy and review!  
  
  
  


**Awake, Lady**  
Chapter Seven: The Parts that Exist  
  
  
  


"What are we going to do, Harry?"   
  
Harry lifted his head, broken from his thoughts by Ron's quiet question. Ron's eyes were heavy with concern, and the pain emanating from them was nearly tangible. Harry crossed the hall and dropped against the wall next to Ron, who was sitting in a high-backed chair. They were outside of Hermione's room, which she had not left since her two friends carried her there the day before. She wouldn't allow them to enter the room, and refused to take any food from them. At seven that morning, she had flow into a rage and had begun ripping her room apart. Ron and Harry, not knowing what to do, had simply watched as the fury drained from her body, and she slowly sank back onto the bed, the curtains fluttering with the wind from the open window, blowing around scraps of paper, shredded pictures and clothes that had been ripped from their drawers. Now she sat apathetically flipping through her old copy of Hogwarts: A History, her eyes blank and lifeless. Ron had closed the door two hours ago, at her gentle but dull request, and he and Harry sat outside, simply waiting, not sure how they could help their friend, and feeling as if she didn't even want help to begin with.  
  
Harry tilted his head back to the wall, staring at the ceiling. After a moment, he spoke softly. "I dunno, Ron. She's never been like this before. I mean, before, when we were in school, she'd been mad at us… but she's never been apathetic. She's never not cared about anything. It's like coming back and realizing everything has changed has… has killed her or something. Inside."   
  
Ron sighed, and his Adams apple bobbed up and down in his tight throat. "This is my fault. I didn't let her adjust first; I just pushed myself on her as soon as she was awake. I should have let her get used to the world first, to get used to everything. I should have sent her to live with you for a while, Harry. Then maybe she would have taken the shock better. But I wanted to protect her from it, I guess… I though if I could love her, none of this would hurt her, maybe it wouldn't even matter." Ron spoke with self-disgust and loathing, something Harry hadn't heard from him in a long time – in fact, the last time he had spoken like that was in fifth year, when he confessed to Harry how ashamed he was after getting in yet another fight with Hermione about Viktor Krum.   
  
Harry shook his head and patted his best friend on the knee, and got up. "It's not your fault, Ron. I'm pretty sure she loves you, and you couldn't know she would react this way when it finally dawned on her that life had changed a lot while she was gone. Don't blame yourself…"   
  
Ron simply shook his head.   
  
"Listen," continued Harry. "I'm going to my flat now, and I'm going to talk to Ginny, tell her what's going on. I want you to go get yourself some food," he help up a hand at Ron's protests, "and not stress for a few minutes, ok? She'll be fine. I'll bring Ginny back in about half an hour, and we'll try and get her to talk to us."   
  
Ron nodded, defeated. What could he do, after all? He would probably only make things worse if he tried to talk to her alone at this point… 

  
  
  
  
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Hermione's head lay slack against her chest, her eyes open and her breathing shallow. Coherence was slowly making its way into her shattered mind.   
  
What had she done? Memories flew through her brain like debris in a river after a heavy storm. She had cried and screamed at Harry and Ron… she vaguely remembered throwing a tantrum. She had flipped some of her books, both the ones she'd destroyed and those that random choice had left intact, not reading or taking in any of the information they held.   
  
The door was closed now, and she could hear Harry and Ron's murmurings every now and again. Though she couldn't understand what they were saying, she was reassured by the familiarity of their tones, Ron's deep and worried, Harry's slightly higher and speaking quickly.   
  
She lifted her head and gazed around her room. It was in shambles, and she momentarily marveled at the destruction she had wrought earlier in the day. The curtains had been ripped from their rods, books had been cast from their shelves, now fluttering in the wind from the open window, like birds trying to escape some horrible predator. The few pictures she had framed days ago had been thrown to the ground, a pillow had been ripped and was lying on the floor, and the mahogany nightstand was now lying awry on its side.   
  
Slowly, Hermione rose from her bed. She rubbed her eyes gently, then set the nightstand right. She removed a band from the upper drawer and secured her hair back, then removed her wand from the drawer. Quietly, she began pointing around the room, her voice nearly indistinguishable as the curtains righted themselves and books flew back to their places. Her work was quick, and in a few moments all that remained of her passion was a framed picture Harry, Ron, and herself standing next to the Hogwarts Express. She picked it up, cradling it gently. The picture had been taken on September first, at the start of their seventh year. She smiled softly as she remembered how Colin had corralled them for one last picture before they started their seventh year. Later, at Hermione's request, he had developed two copies of the photo – one in the usual, wizarding way, and one in the muggle way. Even after being introduced to the magical way of developing photos, Hermione still felt that there was something special about still pictures. Now, there was a large crack running down the photo's length, and many small cracks spread like capillaries over their grinning faces.   
  
Hermione hugged the photo to her chest for a moment, and then tapped it gently with her wand.   
  
"Repario." She popped off the back of the frame, and then cast a creaseless spell on the photo itself. She moved to the closet and pulled out a summer robe, then one of her heavier black cloaks. She rummaged through the chest at the foot of her bed and pulled a rucksack from inside, shoving two shirts and a pair of jeans inside, along with her brush. She also pulled a small roll of parchment out of the old chest, and quickly wrote a note, placing it on the freshly made bed.   
  
Hermione put on the summer robe, tucking the picture into her pocket, then dropped the heavy cloak on her shoulders, swung the rucksack onto her back, and walked to the window.   
  
Night was falling. 

  
  
  
  
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_"…nothing can be done. Don't worry about me, Ron. Don't worry, Harry. I love you both more then I can ever express. You're my life, and that's why I have to leave. I died seven years ago, and resurrection takes more then love and desire, I think. But I'm not sure – and perhaps that's why I'm going. Neither of you were with me the first eleven years of my life, and during that time I grew to be the girl you fought with, the girl you were best friends with, and the girl who loves you more then life.   
  
I need to find out how to be that girl again.   
  
Ron, I'm keeping your ring. The girl who loved you all those years ago still wants to be with you forever, and forever is a long time. For now, though, I have to go. I don't know how long I'll be away. It could be a day. It could be a year.   
  
When we were young, we were looking for ourselves and found each other. I found myself in the two of you, parts of me that were missing throughout my childhood. Now, that's all I have – what can be found in you. I am still dead.   
  
But I'm going to live again.   
  
I love you forever."_  
  
The note wasn't signed. Ron sat, dumbfounded, on the bed.   
  
Half an hour later when Harry arrived with Ginny, he would find only Hermione's note on the slightly rumpled coverlet.   
  
  
  
  


  
  
  
  
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The line "We were looking for ourselves and found each other." is from the song "In the Car" by the Barenaked Ladies, of whom I'm a huge huge huge fan. 


	8. The Shadow of Death

Ok, so there's not really a good excuse for me not putting this chapter up, aside from total laziness I guess. Lets just say I'm trying to enjoy my last summer, huh? Part of the reason I haven't updated in so long is work – part is travel – part is because of a dying computer (which has since been replaced with a shiny new Vaio laptop) – and part of it is because I couldn't think of what in the world could possibly happen in this story.   
  
And you know what? I still don't.   
  
Where is Hermione? Where is she going to go? And just who the hell IS that?   
  
Man, I wish I knew the answers to those questions.   
  
In any event, to be honest, I didn't TOTALLY slack the last two months. If you like Labyrinth, I wrote a very short story (just two chapters) called Memiors of Loss, and review if you read, please. Of course, there's also a relatively new Peter Pettigrew story, Turning, which I have no idea if anyone likes, except for one person ;)   
  
As always, I will eternally love you if you review. And more importantly – please enjoy.   
  
  


**Awake, Lady  
Chapter Eight: The Shadow of Death **  
  
  


Ron wasn't sure how long she had been gone, exactly. Surely not more than an hour – he had heard her stirring in the room before he had gone to make a sandwich downstairs.   
  
Upon reading her letter, he had shoved it into his pocket and turned immediately to his room, taking the time only to cover himself in a heavy cloak and pull a small, thick, green book from inside his nightstand. He had tucked it into a deep pocket, chocked back a sob, and apparated just outside of the Hogwarts grounds.   
  
He was met at the high iron gate by Headmaster Dumbledore himself. The old man's face was solemn, and his hug was firm.   
  
"Mr. Weasley, I can only assume you are looking for Ms. Granger."   
  
Ron nodded, his head bowed. After all these years, he was never really surprised that Dumbledore arrived exactly when he was needed the most – it was now absolutely comforting to see him arrive in a time of sorrow or need.   
  
Dumbledore motioned for Ron to follow him, and led him across the grounds, then up to his office. The stone gargoyle jumped quickly out of their way, and Dumbledore moved behind his desk.   
  
The headmaster gazed quietly at Ron for a moment, making the red-headed man slightly uncomfortable. Attempting to stave off the feeling of one being scrutinized, Ron began to move his focus around the room. Fawkes was perched in the corner, and at the moment, he was in his prime. His beautiful scarlet and gold feathers shimmered though there was little light in the room. The great bird's eyes were level with his own, and for some reason, Ron found this comforting. Slowly, in the quiet of the room, Ron felt himself slipping into a calm reverie. Fawke's did not shift his gaze, but tilted his beautiful head and opened his mouth, emitting a slow, mournful, and utterly beautiful song.   
  
"Ronald?" The bird had stopped singing – how long ago had that been? Ron shook his head and looked to the Headmaster, who was smiling slightly.   
  
"Feel better?" he offered Ron a small candy dish filled with small chocolates in the shape of fruits. Ron nodded and took two of the chocolates, a pear and a watermelon.   
  
"Now, onto Miss Granger."   
  
Ron nodded, waiting for the Headmaster to continue. After a moment, the elder man tilted his head inquiringly, and Ron realized that he was waiting for _him_ to speak. Slowly, haltingly, Ron began telling Dumbledore all that had happened in the last few days, being discrete where it was necessary. The older man didn't speak, but nodded often and occasionally nibbled on a chocolate. It became easier to speak as the days flew by in prose, though Ron was near tears when he finished, handing Dumbledore the letter Hermione had left.   
  
Dumbledore gazed at the letter over his half-moon glasses, then nodded and set it on his desk.   
  
"And so, we are at an impasse", he said,   
  
Ron nodded.   
  
The old headmaster and began to circle the room in long, deft strides, despite his age. He made the circuit three times before he stopped, turned, and moved to look down on Ron.   
  
"Why did you come here?" he asked kindly.   
  
Ron was dumbfounded. He though that had been obvious!   
  
"Professor, sir, I just don't know what to do!" Ron's hands were beginning to shake. "I've never been this scared in my entire life." Images flashed in Ron's mind of their final confrontation with Voldemort. "Nearly, at least. Before, I always knew where she was. Now, she could be anywhere. She could be lying in the street dead for all I know!"   
  
The old man nodded. "And do you think she is, Mr. Weasley?"   
  
Ron gazed up at Dumbledore and slowly shook his head. "No… I… she's always been the most careful of us. Even if she isn't feeling right, she can take care of herself."   
  
Dumbledore said nothing, but picked an apple out of the candy dish.   
  
Ron sat. What was Dumbledore waiting for? There was something, he knew, that he was supposed to get, but he couldn't seem to think straight. He gently pulled the letter from the desk, his eyes wandering over it.   
  
_Forever is a long time…I'm still dead._   
  
The gears turned in the red-headed man's head. She didn't feel real anymore… she wanted to be with him, but alone too… still dead… dead…   
  
And suddenly, Ron was fairly sure he knew where she was.   
  
Her parents.   
  
She was going home. 

  
  
  
  
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So here I am, she thought to herself. Never mind that I could have splinched myself apparating without a license.   
  
_Oh bully._ she thought rebelliously. _I've known how to apparate since fourth year, license or no._   
  
She had was at her parent's old office, intending to only go in for a moment. It was now a frame shop, and no part of the old dentist office showed through. She supposed that after they had died, someone had sold off all of the equipment and the building. She didn't really care.   
  
The woman at the counter smiled sweetly at her when she walked in, painfully reminding Hermione that Nina, her parent's old receptionist, had once sat where she was. What happened to Nina? What about Toby? How did he fare when his mother lost her job?   
  
But no, that was many years ago already, wasn't it? Toby was a teenager now, probably with his own job. Maybe Nina had gotten married. Maybe she had even had more children.   
  
Hermione nodded gently at the old proprietor and began to wander around the room. The reception area wall had been knocked down, and now, where her father's office had been were lines of sample frames. In the corner where a large potted plant had once been, a plant her mother had been so painfully proud of, was a table on which sat framed photos of models that no one would ever meet, let alone really have pictures of.   
  
The storekeeper patted her gently on the shoulder. "Are you looking… dear, you look a bit ill. Are you alright?" Hermione swallowed her tears back hard. "Yes" she croaked. "I'm just looking for something." Now she got a better look at the woman, who really wasn't so old – her face was fairly young, but her hair near completely grey and lifeless. The name tag said "Nina". Hermione gasped.   
  
The woman's eyes filled with tears. "You recognize me. I knew it was you!" She gently drew Hermione to herself in a motherly hug, smoothing down her hair. A customer began to open the door, but stopped herself once she saw what was going on inside. Best to leave them to their privacy, she told herself. Looks like they're going through a hard time.   
  
In her old friend's arms, Hermione now saw that not everything was gone. The plant was on the counter, well watered and flourishing still, even after all those years, and Hermione saw that the rolls of children's stickers her parents used to give out after examinations were still intact on the far left wall.   
  
Nina pulled back now. "Where were you? I tried to find you, but after your parents died… The state said you had no family, and that you were left in the care of your school, but they wouldn't tell me what school, or even where. I was so worried… And I'm so glad you're alive, honey. Where have you been?"   
  
And then haltingly, and to her amazement, she told Nina everything. Oh, she thought somewhere in the middle of the story, I'll have to wipe her memory afterwards… she can't know about Hogwarts.   
  
When she finished, tears streaming down her face, Nina gently took her in her arms. "Please do me a favor, Hermione."   
  
The girl nodded gently, wiping her eyes with one sleeve.   
  
"Don't make me forget. I know you can do it – lord knows Toby's threatened enough times."   
  
Hermione looked up sharply. Nina was a muggle… wasn't she?   
  
Nina smiled gently and began to stroke Hermione's hair. "Toby was eight when you disappeared, wasn't he? Three years later, he got an invitation to attend a school called Hogwarts. It never even occurred to me that you would have ever gone there. He's a fifth year now, in Ravenclaw, a prefect, and the house Quidditch keeper. His dad, well, he never told me, and when he found out I was pregnant, he left anyway. So it was a surprise, but… well you know. He always felt different anyway.   
  
Hermione did know.   
  
The older woman gave her another tight hug. "Now, this Ron fellow… Hermione, he loves, you, doesn't he?"   
  
Hermione nodded against Nina's shoulder blade.   
  
"Right." She pulled Hermione out an arms length, hands on her shoulders. "You've heard the term 'It's better to have loved and lost then to never have loved at all', I'm sure." Again, a nod. "Well," said Nina, "It's bull." This earned her a wan smile from Hermione. "Really, it is. I was blinded by my love for Marc, and it killed me when he left. I wouldn't give up Toby for the world, but it still hurt. If you loose him, and you're sure now that he's your soul mate, then you'll regret it the rest of your life."   
  
Hermione nodded gently, pulling away from the woman.   
  
"Nina", she said, "I'll come back later, maybe tomorrow or the next day. "I'm going to go some place, and think about what you said." She gave the woman another hug and left the store. 

  
  
  
  
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_Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Deep breaths, god damn it._ Ron repeated the mantra in his head over and over. He was in front of her old house, though it was hardly recognizable from the tidy, pleasant domicile it had once been. Lenina's carefully manicured rosebushes were gone, and in their place there was nothing but spiky weeds. The driveway was cracked, the paint had begun to peel on the shutters. A faded "For Sale" sign poked crookedly out of the ground in the small front yard, long grass brushing against the post. The windows were dark, but Ron could imagine what was inside – old furniture, once so meticiuliously cared for, covered with white dust cloths like lumbering ghosts. He wondered morbidly if there were chalk lines inside the house, like the kind they show in muggle murder movies.   
  
Though the neighborhood was a nice one, the Granger house seemed to darken the whole street. Someone walked out of a residence three houses down across the street, glancing slightly at Ron in front of the desolate house and then quickly averting his eyes.   
  
Hermione was nowhere in sight, and Ron felt out of place in his cloak. People would wonder what he was doing there, he thought to himself.   
  
_No._ came a reply from somewhere inside him. They'll all do what the man down the street just did, if they see you. They'll turn their faces, shield their eyes, scamper to their cars and feel down the rest of the day. Most will just pretend you and the house aren't here. That's what this house does to them. Somehow they know that evil things happened here. Somehow they know that it's been corrupted.   
  
Despite the heat of the day, Ron pulled his cloak tighter around him and hunkered down beside the For Sale post, nearly hidden by the high yellow grass. 

  
  
  
  
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_Closure. That's what they call it. Like it's a door you can shut, like it's a bottle you can put a stopper in. Something so simple. Just be closed. Click, and you're done._   
  
Loving mother. Caring father. Missed by all.   
  
Loved by most.   
  
Hated for what they were, by people they never met.   
  
Dead because their only child was special, as they knew she would be.   
  
So she stood, the wind gently rippling her soft robe. Her knapsack lay forgotten a few feet away from the painfully familiar headstone belonging to her parents.   
  
She leaned over, a pain in her heart and throat threatening to consume her. She ran her hands along the upright stone, moving them gently over their names, the dates of their births and deaths, then down to the prayer Hermione had chosen so many years ago. Of course, it was often used for headstones, but to Hermione, it still had an impact.   
  
_The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want.  
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures:   
He leadeth me beside the still waters.   
He restoreth my soul:   
He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name' sake.   
  
  
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,   
I will fear no evil: For thou art with me;   
Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.   
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies;   
Thou annointest my head with oil; My cup runneth over.   
  
  
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life,   
and I will dwell in the House of the Lord forever._   
  
She murmured the words to herself, gently chocking away a sob that threatened.   
  
"For thou art with me."   
  
There was a rustling behind her, and Hermione turned to the sound of a harsh, vile voice.   
  
"Oh, didn't anyone tell you during your nap? God is dead, little one."   
  
And the woman fell upon her. 

  
  
  
  
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By the by, if you ever have the chance to see a Tool concert, do it. It was great! :) 


	9. The Necessity of Remembrance

I… this is so weird… I think… I think this is the last chapter.  
  
Well, I'll be damned. It's so weird, I couldn't think of anything to write for nearly a month, and then boom - two chapters, and one of them is the end.  
  
I'm going to write a prologue, of course, but I think that this is actually the last chapter – that is, questions should be clarified that I'm sure most readers have wondered about. You know all those questions you had? Like who messed up Hermione for so long? And why they did it? And who the hell that woman who fell upon Hermione in the last chapter was? Hehe, the best thing about being the author is knowing all of those things. *evil cackle* I know and yoouuu don't, I know and youuuu don't.  
  
But you will. ;) In case you can't tell, part three of this chapter is a flashback to the day Hermione was cursed.  
  
TONS of thanks to those of you who have reviewed – it really, really drives me to write more. As always, the greatest compliment any reader can give me is to review this story – just that you take the time is valuable to me, even if it's to complain about a typo or some bit of out-of-character-ness.   
  
  


**Awake, Lady  
Chapter Nine: The Necessity of Remembrance**

  
  
  
Ron fidgeted. He had been waiting crouched next to the sign for what seemed like days, but which his watch ensured him was merely hours. In any event, if Hermione was going to come here like he thought, she should have been here – even though he had spent nearly an hour and a half at Hogwarts with Dumbledore, Hermione couldn't apparate, and it would have taken her a bit to find a fireplace that was connected in her hometown. And then, of course, she'd have to explain to the residents exactly why she used their fireplace, and that might take time. Ron had apparated as soon as he had walked off the grounds, directly to her street.  
  
And compounded with his worry and fear, his ass hurt.   
  
He shifted, grimacing, then sighed and put his head in his hands. Where else would she have gone? Hermione had always been an outcast before she entered Hogwarts, so there was little chance she had come to visit an old friend from primary school. She had no surviving relatives – her mother, Lenina, had been an only child, and her father Robert had only one brother, dead of polio when they were children. Both of her grandparents were dead before she turned six.   
  
The only thing that could possibly tie her to this town was her home, this desolate, evil place. Of course, it hadn't been so during Hermione's childhood – Ron remembered her parents both as cheerful, vigorous people who were happy with their lives and their only child. Their house had been so full of love, Hermione had once told him. Even when she went off to school, her parents were supportive and loving, always taking time for her when she came home on vacation. They had even asked Ron and Harry to stay over the summer of their fifth year, and Robert had insisted on taking everyone out to hike once or twice. Lenina had baked cookies for the boys a few days after they arrived, and Ron remembered nearly inhaling them, thinking to himself, _Nearly like home, this. Just tidier._ As he drifted off to sleep his last night in the Granger home, a thought had flashed through his head, which, in his near-slumber wasn't as embarrassing as one would have assumed. _One day_, he thought, _maybe we can be like this. Happy like this all the time_.  
  
He would forget this thought by the next morning, but he would also catch himself watching Hermione in a way he never had before as she laughed at something her mother said, threatened to toss a piece of toast at Harry, stuck her tongue out at him when he complimented her hair, assuming it had been in jest.   
  
_Maybe_, he thought to himself nine years later, _someday we can be like that. Happy all the time._

  
  
  
  
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Ginny was crying, and Harry's hair stood on end as a result of his raking a hand through it dozens of times. He put an arm around his girlfriend, gently squeezing her around the shoulders. Molly sat across from the two younger lovers, clasping her husband's hand gently. Her face was serene, but there was a nearly undetectable layer of fear beyond the mask.   
  
As soon as Harry had discovered Hermione's note, he had called Ginny to Ron's home. Together, they had contacted Arthur and Molly, who had in turn directly come right away. Then they had set about getting in touch with anyone they thought would have an idea of either Ron or Hermione's whereabouts. All the rest of Ron's siblings had been called via the fire, a few acquaintances from work, and his boss. Molly's brave façade had nearly cracked when they contacted Percy's home – Percy had answered after the second flare, his head floating gently in the flames. No, he had said, he had no idea where they could possibly be. He was sure they had just had a spat. Suddenly, Molly had heard Xandie's distressed voice.   
  
"Daddy?" she had asked. "Is something wrong with Uncle Ron or Aunt Hermione? Where are they? She said we'd go shopping soon. Can I see her, Daddy?"   
  
"Xan…" he had replied, his head turning in the fire. "Nothing's wrong." He tone was uncharacteristically gentle. "They'll be fine. You can see them soon. Go see mum."   
  
The girls voice had come back, sounding relieved. "Tell gran and granda and Uncle Ron and Auntie Hermione and Un-"  
  
"Xandie..."   
  
"Just tell them I love them, daddy."   
  
"They know, luv." Percy had turned, his smile faltering. "I'll contact you immediately if I hear from either of them. I'm sure…" he swallowed. "I'm sure they're fine." The fire flared once again, then dropped to its normal position. 

  
  
  
  
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_There was hardly light enough to see where she was going, and an alarm was going off in the back of Hermione's mind. The sun was far in the west, threatening to complete its drop below the skyline of tall pines, and soon night would come, no matter how much she prayed it wouldn't. She silently cursed Snape for punishing them. It wasn't her fault Ron had given Goyle a bloody nose, now was it? Despite herself, a small smile snuck onto her face. Perhaps it was.   
  
In any event, there was no other place she'd rather not be right now. The Forbidden Forest was bad enough in the daytime during times of peace. Of course, this task was simply to scare the trio, she thought. _Wants to put the fear of Snape in our hearts, I warrant_. Somewhere in the distance she heard a familiar noise.   
  
"Oy… Ree…" Someone was yelling, far off. She couldn't quite make out the words, but it sounded like Harry. Good, at least they were nearby. Hermione turned her face to the sky and yelled his name, then Ron's. Birds fluttered in the trees above her, some cooing, some cawing. To Hermione it sounded angry, and she pulled her cloak tighter around her. She made her way slowly towards the voices, occasionally shouting her own call to alert them to her presence. The sun sank lower, and soon she was left with only the hazy twilight to accompany her, fog beginning to roll around her legs, making her think of apparitions totally unlike Nearly Headless Nick and the Fat Friar. No, these reminded her more of muggle horror stories about vengeful ghosts, souls with no purpose except revenge and hurt.   
  
Hermione fought down the rising panic in her throat. She was going to be fine – the voices of her friends were closer now, and with them came a sense of calm and familiarity.   
  
But there was another feeling too, one of wrongness, of blackness, of pain. Hard as she tried to suppress it, this feeling overtook the other, and she began walking faster and faster. The sun was gone.   
  
She began to run in a blind, unexplainable panic. Wild, half formed thoughts raced through her mind, like the strong winds of a hurricane.   
  
_Something  
Something! Oh some…  
Something is  
  
Something is behind me._  
  
She tripped and landed hard on her front. The wind was knocked out of her, and she lay paralyzed on the ground for a moment. Then slowly, painfully, she drew a long, staggered breath.   
  
It was a moment before she heard the noise. Somewhere behind her there was a soft snickering, not unlike that of a Slytherin watching on as she had points deducted, or as she earned a detention. Hermione stayed where she was, trying to draw another breath but not succeeding. Something was going to happen, and in a striking moment of panic-driven clarity, she thought _I'm going to die here, and I'll never see Ron and Harry again._  
  
Resolute, she grabbed at her wand, which had fallen within reach. She flipped over, slamming her back against the trunk of the tree whose roots she had tripped over, and pointed it at the figure in front of her.   
  
The person was wearing a heavy, stiff black cloak, ripped at the bottom from years of wear. The hood was drawn around the face, but the shoulders of the figure were slim, and the body petite, from what Hermione could tell. It was either an adolescent boy or a woman, and the laughter still fluttering from the hood indicated that it was most likely the second. Though feminine, the laughter was harsh and cruel, stabbing like a shard of ice. The laugher tapered off as Hermione sat, shaking, against the tree, wand still pointed, and the woman spoke.   
  
"Are you brave, little girl? Are you as brave as our little hero, the Boy Who Lived? Or his agonizingly painful mudblood loving excuse for a sidekick? It's a pity he's decided to take adore you disgusting animals, it really is. That's a powerful family. It's of no consequence, however. Their adoration for all things muggle makes them weak, and so they'll fall and die."  
  
Hermione sat silently, and she began to lose control of her body. Her hand began violently shaking, and even as she raised her other arm to brace it, she knew it wouldn't matter. Her feet were pushing against the dirt, causing a knob in the tree to dig painfully into her back. The woman snorted softly and lifted her hands to her face, pushing back the large hood, letting the light of the evening show her face.   
  
_He looks like his father, but he's got his mother's smile…_ Hermione thought dimly.   
  
"You should be proud, mudblood. You'll be a turning point in the Great War. Your little boyfriend, the Boy Who Lived, is going to go insane after this, because you'll be the equivalent of a muggle plant. You'll win us the war, little one. You'll go down in history." She grinned snidely, that horribly familiar grin spreading across her face, and her blue eyes shined darkly, and before Hermione could utter even the start of a spell, the woman had begun her own.   
  
Hermione reacted at the first syllable, dropping her wand.   
  
"Victus…"  
  
_Oh, Ron, I'm so sorry. Oh Harry, I'm sorry._  
  
"Animus…"  
  
_I'm so sorry, I can't be brave. I can't be brave._  
  
Hermione curled into a ball, her eyes squeezing out large tears and her mouth working sounds that would be her last words for seven years.   
  
"Mommy, da… mommy…" But they were already dead, and wouldn't come in assistance at her call.   
  
"Letum…"  
  
In the distance, the faint noise of two voices called out to her._  
  


  
  
  
  
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Ron stood up, his brow creased in irritation and worry. She hadn't shown up, and it was nearly dusk. He, meanwhile, was going nowhere waiting for her. He felt useless, just sitting around in an overgrown yard full of weeds. Perhaps she had come home? He knew it was unlikely, of course, but it wouldn't hurt to check. Then, he'd…  
  
He'd…  
  
He'd be a useless git. Shaking his head, Ron apparated home.   
  
  
  


  
  
  
  
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"You're dead. I'm going to kill you." Ginny stood up as soon as Ron popped into the room, angrily advancing towards him, one fist raised. Her voice was raised loudly, and her face was flushed an angry red color. "What the hell do you think you're doing, you bloody idiot? Just leaving, nothing but Hermione's note, not a word to any of us – "  
  
The trouble with one angry Weasley is that there's always apt to be one more on the horizon.   
  
Or two.   
  
Ron clenched his teeth, meeting his sister just past the coffee table. "What, so I could wait around while you tried to sort this out rationally? I want her back, now, and so I left. Get over it. I'm trying to get her back."   
  
Ginny put her raised hands down to her hips. "Oh, so Mr. Idiot, have you found her? I don't see her. Are you hiding her in your shirt? Did you transfigure her into a hat and decide to carry her around?"   
  
Red patches bloomed on Ron's cheeks. "No, not yet. I haven't been able to find her." His face fell. "I don't know where she is."   
  
Ginny's anger dissolved, and she put her arm around her older brother. "It's ok… we'll find her."   
  
Until then, Harry, Molly and Arthur had been silent, but now Harry broke in. "We'll find her Ron, we will. But we DO need to sit down and talk about it, think it over…"  
  
Ron shook his head in negation. "I know where she is Harry." At his friends look of confusion, he continued. "She's in her hometown. I just can't find her, y'see. I know she's there… I just do. I've been at her house, waiting. I know it's not exactly top-notch Auror work, but I haven't been able to think of anything else. Somehow, I just know she's there. Now, I'm going to go back, and you can come or you can stay." Without another word, Ron apparated away.   
  
Harry looked warily at Ginny, and both looked towards Molly and Arthur. Molly looked slightly relieved to know that at least her son was safe, and she patted Harry gently on the back, and gave her daughter a hug and kiss on the cheek. "We'll wait here, dears. If Hermione comes home, one of us will come get you."   
  
The young couple nodded, then apparated holding hands.   
  


  
  
  
  
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Hermione stirred gently, attempting to pull the covers around her. _Hmm_, she thought to herself, _seems to be a bit of a chill in here… perhaps I should notify Professor McGonagall._Yes, she'd do that, after she woke up. For now, it was time to sleep, time to –   
  
A sharp kick interrupted her train of thought. She grasped her side quickly, gasping at the pain. Groggily, she sat up. It was dark, but her eyes soon adjusted to the gloom, and she could see a black figure looming above her. She was lying in a corner, and as she looked around the pillar of darkness in front of her, she began to panic. She was at _that_ place, that awful place where her parents had been killed. She hadn't been there at the time, but she had dreamt awful nightmares the night they were attacked, mostly formed visions of her parents being mercilessly tortured. Her mother had been killed shortly after being mocked with the Imperius Curse, but her father had died only after nearly an hour of agony under the Cruciatus Curse. Images flashed in Hermione's mind, quickly and painfully. They had entered downstairs, through the door she was now looking at. Death Eaters, six of them. Two had removed their hoods – one had been Lucius Malfoy, the other a Death Eater she didn't recognize. They had been the leaders in the rage against her parents, but Malfoy had disappeared shortly after their deaths.   
  
The room she was in now was the room her parents had died in. The family room, of all places. Over the old burgundy couch was a white dust cloth, and the floor was dirty only because of years of dust settling. Apparently, no one lived here now, and Hermione understood why. It no longer felt like the home she had grown up in, but like some dark, dirty, forbidden place. The walls seemed to seethe with an invisible, vile slime, and each breath she drew was filled with stale air. She looked again to the figure in front of her, the slim body, pale hands, tattered black cloak. The figure brought it's pale hands – a woman's, Hermione saw by the long nails and petite fingers – and drew back the hood.   
  
And suddenly, in just that instant, Hermione finally remembered what had happened to her that day seven years ago. She had been dreaming about it while she slept, hadn't she? Dream or no, she knew it was valid – just as she knew that her parents were dead before Professor McGonagall had come up to the girls dorm, her eyes filmed with tears, her aging face slack and solemn.   
  
She stared at the woman before her, remembering a day just before her fourth year. _I remember thinking that she would have been pretty, if she hadn't been so mean and snobby looking._  
  
The woman before her smirked and crossed her arms. "So you woke up. Good for you. Of course the spell would be broken someday – it was new when I cast it, and there wasn't a remedy." Her face clouded for a moment. "In any event, even if you woke up, you were still supposed to be soulless. I thought it worked like a Dementor's Kiss, but apparently I was wrong, even after all that damned research."   
  
Hermione drew herself up, seething. She hadn't been able to be brave, all those years ago. She would make up for it now.   
  
Hermione spit in Narcissa Malfoy's face.   
  
Narcissa's face altered from one of smug satisfaction to one that was absolutely livid. Shaking with rage, she reached up to her face and wiped it off. "I was just going to kill you. Now I'm going to only make you wish you were dead, you mudblood bitch." With that, she pulled a hand back to slap Hermione. She was too late though – while she had been wiping herself off, Hermione had spied two wand ends slightly sticking out of her pocket. Hermione ducked as Mrs. Malfoy swung her hand down and harmlessly struck her back. Surprised, she had over balanced and gone swinging towards the wall Hermione had been sitting against. Hermione grabbed both wands.   
  
She pulled the away from the vile woman and took two steps forward, wands in hand. _Oh_, she thought, sarcastically to herself as she looked at the wands,_ this is wonderful. Mr. Ollivander will throw a fit._  
  
The two wands were both so similar in color, shape, length, and grip that Hermione, being new to her own, couldn't discern which was which. If she used the wrong one against Narcissa, it could backfire and kill her. Wands had the tendency to react badly in hands not belonging to their owners, and certainly a wand used for vile purposes could cast no helpful spells for Hermione. She turned as Narcissa bumped against the wall, and crouched down quickly, placing a foot on both wand ends. Narcissa turned just in time to watch as Hermione pulled with all her might up on the wands, snapping both in half.   
  
Hermione looked up grimly at her adversary, teeth clenched. "Without your wand", she said, "you may as well be a muggle."   
  
Snarling like a wild animal, Mrs. Malfoy launched herself at Hermione, her hands twisted into claws. Hermione stepped back quickly, tripping on the hem of her robes. Narcissa shouted in triumph as she attacked the girl, driving one fist into the side of her face. Hermione screamed, but wriggled underneath the skinny woman. As they fought on the floor of the family room, Hermione realized that she must not have taken care of herself in the past few years. She seemed to have wasted away somewhat, and should have been overcome easily, yet she fought like an animal driven by instinct, and Hermione was losing the battle. Slowly, the minutes past, and Hermione began to lose the will to fight.   
  
Narcissa continued to pound away at Hermione, shrieking at the top of her lungs. "You… are nothing but a tool… for misery. You're nothing… nothing that should be missed… Nothing like my husband… they killed him…and brainwashed my son… and they'll pay with your death!"   
  
At first, Hermione had no idea what the crazed woman was talking about, but as she tried to stave off the blows and take some sort of offensive, it began to make sense. Lucius must have been killed in the war – perhaps even in the end battle, and Narcissa somehow blamed her. "They" seemed to imply Ron and Harry – perhaps even the whole Weasley family. Furious at the unfairness of this, Hermione got a second wind and lashed out at the older woman, both with her hands and with her voice.   
  
"You're a killer, you're a bigot…. And no matter how much your family owns… or how much money you have… you're always going to be worthless…" Hermione wasn't sure how long they'd be able to continue this, and no one in the surrounding homes seemed to be worried about two screaming, fighting women in an old abandoned house. She began to weaken again, no longer fueled by her rage. Her struggles began to lowse power.   
  
_This is it. Brave or not, this could be.._  
  
There was a sudden explosion as the front door burst open. Footsteps charged down the hall, yelling her name, and Hermione began to fight again, praying that they would come soon. A few seconds later, Ron rushed into the room, followed by Harry and Ginny. All had their wands drawn, and they began screaming at Narcissa. Ron jumped on top of her and began to pull her off. When he discovered he couldn't quite do it alone, Harry began casting spells on the insane woman, sedating and binding her. They soon detained her and sat her on the uncarpeted floor. Ginny was kneeling at Hermione's side, casting minor healing spells to quell her pain and prevent swelling. Hermione was dimly aware of Harry kneeling down next to Mrs. Malfoy and reading her rights out loud. Ron tapped Harry, who nodded to indicate that he was in control, then moved to Hermione's side.   
  
Ron sat down next to Hermione, distancing himself in case she didn't want to be near him.   
  
Hermione drew a deep breath, held out her arms, buried her head into Ron's chest, and burst into tears.   
  
_Alright_, she thought to herself. _Closure._   
  


  
  
  
  
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End file.
